


The Hogwarts Mental Institution

by DropTheBasil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial, Escape, Friendship, Gen, Harry Needs a Hug, Magic, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Panic Attacks, Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25337515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropTheBasil/pseuds/DropTheBasil
Summary: "What can you recall, Harry?" the man asked patiently."I just defeated Voldemort." Harry looked at the aging man to find any sign of recognition to the wretched name. He only received a sympathetic nod. "I went outside to talk with Ginny and that's all I remember." Harry concentrated, trying to remember the pieces of the past, but he kept coming up blank.The doctor nodded. "It seems the surgery has not benefited your illness.""Professor, what illness? Where am I?""Where you've been for the last seven years, Harry. The Hogwarts Mental Institution."
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom & Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	1. Welcome to Hogwarts

_Harry awkwardly made his way around the happy people, but he couldn't help but smile as well. Voldemort was gone for good. Dead. And there was no more responsibility on Harry's shoulder. No more stupid prophecies._

_Okay, so Harry didn't just smile; he beamed. He absolutely beamed._

" _Cheers, Harry!" The occasional person would call out, lifting their glass. Harry would beam back, lifting his glass in return._

_Some people would make conversation with him and he'd politely respond, though his eye continued to scan the room for that one perfect person. That one beautiful, perfect, red-headed—_

" _Ginny!" Harry said, his eyes finally landing on her. She was stunning, wearing a simple light blue dress with long sleeves and a dark blue flower in her hair. "I found you."_

" _Well, this is my home," Ginny said, gesturing to the lavishly embellished space that Molly Weasley had spent quite some time making look perfect. It worked._

" _Right," Harry said, casually rocking back and forth on his heels. "You look beautiful and uh... your dress looks nice," he added when he had nothing else to say. Despite her having been his girlfriend for a while now, Harry still couldn't stop the spread of the blush blooming on his face._

_Ginny grimaced, picking at the fabric. "Ugh. I hate it. My mom picked it out for me."_

" _Oh," Harry said._

Why is this so awkward? _He thought to himself._

" _Um, this is really awkward," Ginny stated upfront._

" _Exactly what I was thinking," Harry replied._

" _Huh," Ginny said. The conversation remained dead._

" _So," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you want to go outside?"_

" _Right! Outside! Good idea." Ginny led the way._

_They both walked into open-air, squeezing by the elated survivors. On their way out, Seamus Finnigan spotted Harry and Ginny. He elbowed Harry and winked, as he walked in the other direction. Harry glared._

_Luckily, Ginny did not see the action and continued ahead of Harry._

" _Wow. It's really beautiful out here," Ginny said in awe, gazing at the star-filled sky._

Not as beautiful as you, _Harry thought, he felt that if he actually said that out loud, Ginny might murder him. He snorted at that thought._

" _What?" Ginny asked._

" _Nothing. It's just that I finally feel at peace."_

" _Yeah- so what do you plan on—"_

" _Ginny, I'm so sorry," he blurted out. He decided at the last moment that if he really wanted this day to be perfect, it had to be with Ginny._

" _What are you talking about?"_

" _For leaving you and for not asking you out until sixth year and for being an absolute jerk. I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll do whatever you want! I'll even get a tattoo of the Hungarian Horntail!"_

_Ginny laughed._ _Noticing Harry's confusion she explained, "If I still hated you, I wouldn't be talking to you. Harry, I know you left me to protect me and save the world." Ginny put her hand on Harry's cheek. "Believe me, I understand."_

_The chocolate brown eyes met the toad green eyes._

" _Really?"_

" _Sure, I hated you for a while," Ginny said, putting her hand down. "I mean, I'm not a saint." She grinned at Harry, "But I'm also not a whiny, needy brat. I can handle myself, Potter."_

" _I know that."_

" _Sure, that explains the terrified look in your eyes."_

" _I just needed to make sure."_

" _Whatever you say, Chosen One."_

" _Whatever?"_

" _Well, probably not everything. For example, I refuse to be your maid and be one of those doting girlfriends that cleans up after you and wipes up anything you spill."_

" _Not even my pumpkin juice?" Harry asked, a twinkle in his eye as he took a sip of his drink._

" _Especially your pumpkin juice." Ginny used her napkin to dab at the side of Harry's mouth, wiping away any non-existent leftover drink._

" _You break my heart, Miss Weasley."_

" _That's what I do." Ginny smirked, teasingly. "Now," she continued, gently pulling Harry's chin down to her eye level, "about that Hungarian Horntail tatt_ _—_ _"_

_And Harry kissed her._

* * *

Then, he woke up.

White. That's what Harry saw. Blinding white.

"Harry, are you alright?" a concerned voice asked.

Harry didn't answer. He closed his eyes trying to block out the glaring, bleached out walls. His hands moved around the surface underneath him, feeling the rigid surface. It was a bed. But it wasn't his bed.

Confusion settled upon Harry thicker than the pumpkin juice Ginny refused to clean up.

He opened his eyes only to be increasingly shocked by what he saw.

"Am I dead?" Harry asked. _Again?_

The man chuckled. "No, Mr. Potter. You are very much alive."

"But you're dead," Harry stated, blandly. His mind began to work in overdrive, his defense side kicking up. Harry started to think up an escape plan.

"I know the surgery was hard, Harry, but we can get through this. I just need you to be honest with me."

"Why don't you be honest with me first? What surgery? How are you here and where the bloody hell is here?" Harry yelled, his temper rapidly rising.

The man smiled sadly, "You know who I am, Harry. I'm your doctor."

"No, you're not. You are-you were my professor. But you..." Harry felt his throat clog up. "You died."

"Mr. Potter, I have never looked into the business of teaching nor have I ever died." The man reached out to hold Harry's hand, but Harry quickly snatched it out of his reach. "You seem to be suffering from mild amnesia."

"Amnesia? No, I remember everything!"

"What can you recall, Harry?" the man asked patiently.

"I just defeated Voldemort." Harry looked at the aging man to find any sign of recognition to the wretched name. He only received a sympathetic nod. Harry fidgeted on the bed, his clothes stiff with sweat. "I, um, well, I talked to some people and then I went to the burrow."

Harry stopped talking, his breath caught in his throat.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" the doctor encouraged him to go on.

"I went outside to talk with Ginny and that's all I remember." Harry concentrated, trying to remember the pieces of the past, but he kept coming up blank.

The doctor nodded. "It seems the surgery has not benefited your illness."

"Professor, what illness? Where am I?"

"Where you've been for the last seven years, Harry. The Hogwarts Mental Institution."

"Hogwarts isn't a mental institution!" Harry exclaimed, fear gripping his heart faster than a dementor. "It's a school of _—_ "

"Witchcraft and wizardry," the old doctor finished. "I know, Harry. You've been telling us this for the past seven years. Harry, you've been struggling with schizophrenia ever since you were a young boy. You believe that your parents were killed by a Dark Lord and that you are the only boy who could ever save it."

"It's true, professor," Harry insisted. "But Voldemort is gone now."

"There is no one named Voldemort. Harry, your parents were killed in a car crash."

"No! That's what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon said! They put you up to this didn't they? Who are you?" Harry asked, jumping to his feet. "I'm getting out of here!"

He ran to the white door and swung it open, only to be met face to face with… a giant. "Hagrid?" Harry said, surprised. Hagrid answered by pushing Harry back inside. Harry fell to the floor by the brute force of the half-giant, his glasses knocked off his face flying askew.

"Are you alright, doctor?" Hagrid asked.

"I'm fine, Rubeus. Thank you for your concern," the doctor said, warmly. Hagrid nodded and shut the door, leaving Harry inside.

Harry scrambled to his feet, reaching out to bring his glasses back to his astonished face. "That was _—_ "

"Rubeus Hagrid, Hogwarts's main security guard." The old doctor paused to study Harry's face. "In your world," the man continued, "I recall he was the half-giant keeper of keys and grounds of Hogwarts?"

"Professor, I know it sounds crazy but it's real. My world is real and you're part of it. You were my Headmaster. Professor Dumbledore!"

"It's Doctor Dumbledore, my dear boy."

"This doesn't make sense."

"One of our Medical scientists, Doctor Tom Riddle created a treatment that he hoped would cure you of your illness. Before you underwent the operation you were talking to Miss Ginevra Weasley."

Harry looked at Dumbledore with utter shock as Dumbledore continued, "I assume the treatment did not succeed and your memory resumes from the point before the operation to now."

"You let Voldemort operate on me?"

"Doctor Riddle is not a villain, Mr. Potter. In fact his main desire is to help people," Dumbledore said in a cool manner.

"That's what he wants you to believe. He really just wanted to kill all of the muggle-borns."

"And what exactly is a muggle-born?"

"A person who comes from a family of muggles but possesses magical abilities."

"Are you a muggle-born, Mr. Potter?"

"No, I'm a half-blood."

"Do you possess magical abilities?" Dumbledore politely asked, like an adult entertaining a child's fantasy.

Harry felt a twinge of annoyance. "Of course I do. This all probably just some weird dream and I'm going to wake up soon. Okay? So can I go?"

"If you can prove your magical abilities, you may leave."

"I don't have to prove anything to you. If you were really Dumbledore, you would already know about magic. You taught me! This all some bloody nightmare and I'm just going to wake up soon at the Burrow." Harry blinked really hard. Nothing happened. He tried pinching himself. That just hurt.

Dumbledore watched in amusement.

"This isn't funny." Harry glared.

"I realize your confusion, Mr. Potter—"

"No. You don't." Harry said, coldly. "I don't know why you and Hagrid are acting like brain washed monkeys and what exactly I'm doing here. If you would just let me leave, then I'll find someone who can help you. Maybe Professor McGonagall or even Mr. Weasley. I mean, they would probably be really surprised to see you here and well… alive, but I'm sure they'd love to help the both of you."

"I'm not the one who needs the help, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, you do."

"If you don't need help, why did your Aunt Petunia send you here?"

"That's exactly what I've been saying!"

"Tell me, Harry. Why do you choose to believe in your world? Your world of magic and terrifying beasts? Is it better than this world?"

Harry looked around at the padded walls and the bars on the windows. _Yes._ He thought, but he decided not to say that aloud in case he might actually prove Dumbledore's point.

"Does it make you feel better? Being the hero in your world?" the doctor questioned further.

"Of course not! You don't know what I've been through. So many people died and you're telling me I enjoy it."

"You told me I died, yet here I am," Dumbledore countered.

"This isn't the first time I've talked to you since you died."

"When did I die, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired.

Harry gazed at Dumbledore, bewildered. "Um, when I was sixteen."

"When you were sixteen, I left Hogwarts for about a year to deal with family issues. I don't remember dying in the process."

Harry resisted rolling his eyes, Dumbledore's constant denial was really ticking him off.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said, softly, "you assumed my leave was permanent because anyone outside of Hogwarts doesn't exist or love you."

Harry looked away, not believing a word coming from Dumbledore's mouth. "Your Aunt Petunia would like you to know that's not true. She would love to have you back, Harry."

"Don't psychoanalyze me."

"Your Aunt and Uncle love you and miss you very much—"

"They don't! Don't you dare lie to me! My home is at the Burrow and I'm going there right now," Harry seethed, standing to his feet.

"Hagrid would just bring you back in, Harry."

"So I'm a prisoner?"

"You are not a prisoner, Harry."

"Then let me leave."

"Prove to me you have magical abilities and you are free to go."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered under his breath.

Harry focused on the door. His wandless magic had improved and he hoped that his skills wouldn't abandon him now.

He concentrated, blocking all sounds out and remained fixated on the one task at hand, opening the door. He took a deep breath in.

_Alohomora._

The door remained shut.

Harry turned to face Dumbledore. "It would be easier if I had my wand."

"You mean this?" Dumbledore asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an ancient looking chain. At the center there was an emblem that looked strangely like… "My wand," Harry said softly.

"Not exactly what you expected, is it?"

Harry just held out his hand in shock and Dumbledore let the chain flow out of his hands and into Harry's. Harry felt nothing but cold dread inside him.

_Alohomora._

Harry's voice cracked. He didn't know what to do. He was lost. He had no magic.

"Would you like some breakfast, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. "It looks like you are going to be staying at the Hogwarts Mental Institution."


	2. Keep Calm and Panic

After quite a few examinations and a bunch more "rate your pain on a scale of one to ten," Dumbledore left Harry alone in the blinding white room with a tray of breakfast.

Poking at his rubbery eggs and burnt toast, Harry's mind did not stop racing.

Apparently, the surgery he had undergone was called "deep brain stimulation" in which they took a metal wire of some sort and stuck it up his head and hoped for the best. Dumbledore told him it was a high risk operation, but they had gone through with it with permission from Aunt Petunia.

Of course she approved, she didn't give a damn if he lived or died.

But here he was, still alive (if this even counted as living).

And supposedly, the surgery didn't help much since Harry still believed in magic and witchcraft, which, to him, was reality. But not their reality. So he was the crazy one.

He had to get out of here. _But where the bloody hell was here?_

Did he really lose his mind?

After all he had been through it was expected, wasn't it?

At least his crazy mind was kind enough to place his wack-a-doo thoughts in a mental institution.

The Hogwarts Mental Institution. Or maybe he was transported to some kind of alternate universe? One where magic simply did not exist.

But if magic did not exist in this realm, how was he ever going to find a way home? To the Burrow? To the real Hogwarts?

His magic wand was reduced to nothing but an old necklace. Harry lifted the thick chain and closely examined it, something he realized he didn't do before.

The engravings were old and intricate. The main emblem in the center was his wand, but there were other images surrounding it. There was even a small image of a stag blended quite nicely in the background. If Harry wasn't so angry and confused, he might have admitted it was beautiful.

Running his fingers down the emblem and flipping it over, Harry noticed an engraving at the bottom.

The initials: _J.P._

Initials for… James Potter? Was this his father's? Maybe if this world didn't have magic… maybe his parents were alive? His mum and dad!

No… Dumbledore told him they died in a car crash.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Even in a world where he was not the Chosen One, he was still an orphan.

Caught up in his whirring thoughts, Harry failed to realize the door opening and suddenly, "Are you done with your breakfast, Mister Potter?"

Harry looked up. "Professor McGonagall!"

"Nurse McGonagall, young man," she corrected.

Even in this universe, the strict lady maintained her no-nonsense attitude. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun and pinned on her scrubs was a tiny cat, more specifically, her animagus cat form.

"Now," she continued, "it is time for you to take your medication." She cleared the plate of breakfast that was on the desk beside his bed and placed a tall plastic cup of water and 5 pills of various sizes and colors.

"Medication? I am not taking medication," Harry refused.

McGonagall sighed. "Mister Potter, we do this every time, every day. Take your medicine and I will allow you to leave your room and join the others."

"The others? As in there are more people here?"

"Yes, and you can join them. I'm sure they miss you after your surgery."

The others… Maybe his friends were there! Ron and Hermione and… Ginny! Dumbledore said he was talking to Ginny before his operation! All he had to do was take the crazy pills and McGonagall would let him see his friends.

"What exactly am I taking then?" Harry grabbed the biggest pill and slowly rolled it in between his finger and thumb.

McGonagall explained but in Harry's mind, it all sounded like scientific garbage.

_This pill is blah blah blah-athine and it helps with managing your crazy!_

Of course that was not the specific words McGonagall used but in Harry's mind it might as well have been.

Without taking another moment to second-guess himself, Harry grabbed all five of the pills and quickly swallowed them. After washing it down with the full cup of water Harry immediately responded with, "Now, let me see my friends."

He jumped out of bed and headed straight for the door, a nervous excitement bubbling inside in expectation of joining his friends. Maybe they traveled here with him! If Hermione was here, she would know what to do!

If McGonagall was surprised at Harry's random burst of energy and mood change, she did not react nor comment. Perhaps she was well-accustomed to Harry's strange behavior.

"Right through those doors, Mister Potter."

Harry did not know what to really expect when he opened the door. But whatever met his gaze did not live up to the expectation. While his room was bleachy white, the common room (at least, that's what Harry assumed this room to be) was dressed in the most drab colors in the world. The curtains, the walls, the ceiling—they all had beige undertones and a sickly yellow afterthought.

Not to mention the smell. It was like a mix of wet cat and musty old person. Bloody wonderful.

"Well," McGonagall interrupted his observations, "go on then." She nodded towards the table in the center which had a group of teenagers sitting around it.

Harry wet his lips nervously and took in a deep breath before walking towards the group. As soon as the group spotted Harry, they all sped away in different directions, clearing the table completely except for four people. Harry didn't really care why they all ran at the sight of him. All he knew was that he remembered seeing some of them walking around at Hogwarts (the school, mind you) back when he was a student.

The people leftover were Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Luna Lovegood. He didn't even remember them being at the Burrow when he was transported. Did that mean they were part of this world? Did they believe in Hogwarts too?

Out of all of them, the one that stuck out the most was, surprisingly, Dean. While the Dean he knew was fit as a fiddle and a great quidditch player on the field, this Dean was quite the opposite. This Dean was sickly thin, as if he hadn't eaten for days. The others looked basically the same as his real world except for a few small differences. Like the fact that, Seamus was constantly fidgeting and that every few seconds, Neville's head would dart in a different direction as if he was seeing things no one else could.

"Hi everyone." Harry said, not really knowing what else to say. _Are you lot bonkers too?_

At the sound of his voice, Neville practically fell out of his chair in fright. "Harry!" He put his hand to his heart. "You gave me quite a fright."

"I just said two words," Harry asked, confused by how he incited a reaction of that level.

"He's waning off his anxiety medication, so he's feeling a little more restless than usual," Luna explained, rubbing Neville's right arm comfortingly as Neville let out a shaky breath.

"But I might get out of here soon so it doesn't matter!" Neville exclaimed, his voice sounded thrilled but his face was gaunt and he had dark shadows under his eyes. He looked like he actually belonged in the asylum.

"That's going to be me! I am going to get out of here soon too!" Seamus announced, "Just you wait."

"Of course you will, Seamus," Luna said, kindly, "Anyway, we're glad you're back, Harry! Come have a seat."

She gestured to the free seat she pulled up next to her. "Nothing much changed here except Treacle Tart Tuesday moved to Treacle Tart Thursday," she gave Harry a genuine smile, "How was your surgery? Feel any better?"

The first thing Harry noticed was that Luna was not wearing the itchy, rough clothing the other patients were wearing. She had donned her traditional Luna-like garb: a bright multicolored dress and very large homemade earrings.

Choosing to ignore the question of his stupid operation, Harry turned the inquisition on her, "Why aren't you wearing the same clothes as the other patients? Won't you be a safety hazard to yourself or whatever other mumbo jumbo lies they say?"

Luna tilted her head, confused. "Harry, sweetie," she said, slowly, "I'm not a patient here. I'm just a volunteer. I come in on the weekdays, remember?"

It took Harry a few seconds to process what she was saying.

So out of everyone here, and Harry could see quite a large number Hogwarts students walking around, Luna was the sane one. Loony Lovegood, not that he would ever call her that, was the one Hogwarts student that wasn't even loony.

Harry let out a huffed laugh and felt his heartbeat increase, "This is… insane. I am going insane. Am I going insane? Is this real? Is this really real?" Harry felt his panic build up again. He wanted to blame the reaction on his medication, but he was pretty sure they forced it down his throat so he wouldn't have this mini episode.

Luna, noticing the beginning of Harry's panic attack, lightly grabbed both his shoulders. "Look at me, Harry. Look at me," she calmly, directed.

Harry could see Hagrid from his peripheral vision gruffly beginning to walk up to the table, but Luna held out a hand to stop him, letting him know everything was okay.

Hagrid then retreated back to the door. The Keeper of the Gate.

"Harry, eyes on me. Breathe," Luna demonstrated, slowly letting in a breath and then letting it out. "Now do it with me."

Little by little, doing the breathing exercises really helped and Harry felt his pulse slow back to its normal rate.

Once Harry returned back to his normal state, he realized that the other three at the table were still watching his whole panic attack. Embarrassed, Harry turned his head away, his cheeks filling with heat.

"It's alright, Harry," Neville said, comfortingly. "It happens to the best of us."

Seamus and Dean both nodded their head in agreement.

Luna pulled Harry's chin back to herself, so Harry couldn't hide his face. "Harry. You are not insane."

At Harry's disregarding scoff, she continued, "Don't worry. _You're just as sane as I am_."

He had heard those words before, but now, it took on a whole new meaning.

"I bet you say that to me a lot," Harry said, donning a small smile.

"Only as many times as you need to hear it." She kissed his cheek.

"Do I get a kiss too, Miss Luna?" a joking voice chimed in.

"George, you're here too?" Harry asked, surprised.

"No, of course not," the red head answered, plopping down at a seat next to Dean, "I'm Fred, not George."

"But Fred is… George, your ear." Harry was confused (not the first time that happened today).

"What about my ear?"

_Well, there's the little problem that it was missing now so everyone can tell it's you. Oh, and also Fred was dead so that was a…uh… dead giveaway._

"Never mind," Harry said, shaking his head. "So," he turned the discussion back to the group, "Why are you guys here?"

"Our parents put us in this 'sanctuary for mentally disturbed children' when we started disrupting their quality of life or whatever. But I don't care, once I'm 17, I am out of here. I won't see this damn building or my parents ever again," Dean announced with a twinge of anger.

"You all feel like this? Even you, Geo-er-Fred?"

"My parents are the confused ones! I'm Fred and I have always been Fred! They were probably sick of all the pranks I played on them, so they sent me away."

"Oh," Harry replied, "right."

"The great Potter is back!" a voice exclaimed.

It belonged to none other than the wretched, "Malfoy," Harry growled.

"Ah, I see the surgery failed to remove our scathing rivalry! Wonderful!" Draco Malfoy, holding a tray of greasy chips, cockily slid into another empty seat beside Neville. Neville simply turned a shade more ashen.

Luna stood and grabbed Neville, guiding him to the exit. "I think we best get you to your room, sweetie. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry. Bye everyone."

Harry nodded goodbye and then turned his attention back on Draco. Raising his eyebrows, he questioned, "And you're here because…?"

"Those buggers diagnosed me with narcissistic personality disorder and a bunch of other bullshit that I can't name." Draco leaned back on his seat and smirked his famous smirk. "It's still a better diagnosis than yours."

_Narcissistic personality?_ Harry held back a laugh at the thought. "Makes sense," he joked.

Draco simply rolled his eyes and just stuffed a handful of the oily snack in his mouth.

"You know, they say you are what you eat," Dean commented, looking slightly nauseated as he sat across from Draco on the table. Harry noticed that the thin, weak Dean in this universe had been poking at the same boiled piece of broccoli on his plate during the whole time since he had been there.

"That's funny," Draco said through a mouth full of chips. "I don't recall ever eating a sexy beast."

"Did somebody say my name?" George asked, rejoining the conversation.

"What? So now you're George, Fred, and Sexy Beast? Leave some names for the rest of us!" Draco sassed.

"I'm not Fred! I am George!"

"Whatever, mutant Forge." Draco continued eating his food.

"I think I need to leave," Dean said, weakly shaking as he stood, "I'm really full."

His plate said otherwise.

"I'll come with you," Seamus said and he took both his and Dean's plate to the trash. George or Fred or whoever decided to follow them out as well.

"We'll see you later, Harry," Seamus said as they went to their separate rooms.

"Don't say goodbye to me then. That's fine," Draco muttered, chewing his food less obnoxiously now that there was no audience to watch him.

A timid patient (a first year student in Harry's mind) walked up to Draco holding his plate of food. "Um, is anyone sitting there?" He gestured to the empty seats beside the blond.

Draco took an exaggerated amount of time to study the chairs before finally turning to the poor boy. "Yes," he announced, "My personality and my ego."

The boy scurried away in what looked like tears.

Draco chuckled. "People are so sensitive here."

"Malfoy, you won't lie to me right?" Harry leaned forward in his seat. "You'll tell me the hard truth and you won't hide anything to make me feel better?"

"It depends," Draco reasoned, "I mean, does it make me feel better to tell you the truth or would it be better to just screw with your head some more?"

"Everything is bloody screwing with my head!" Harry wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. "Whatever you say is not going to make me feel any worse!"

"Oh," Draco realized, "So you've forgotten everything again, innit?"

At Harry's slow nod, Draco grinned slyly and rubbed his hands together. "Then I am going to tell you the whole truth and nothing but the truth because that, my greatest rival, is so much worse than the 'reality' you've got going on inside your head."

"Fine," Harry said, through gritted teeth. "Tell me your truth."

"Alright, so the first conclusion you always jump to is that you think you're in some kind of parallel universe or you've traveled to some different world where magic does not exist, but the truth," Draco began dramatically, "is that this is a madhouse and not a school of witchcraft and wizardry, which already sounds like a madhouse in itself. You haven't traveled anywhere, you have been here since you were eleven years old. Your aunt visits you every once in a while, but your uncle and cousin, Duddykins, avoid you like the plague. Magic has never existed and never will and you are just completely crazy or if you want the scientific term, 'delusional.'"

"Sure, whatever, I gathered that much," Harry shot out, resisting the urge to roll his eyes dramatically. He still did not really believe Draco completely. "Tell me about the others. You have narcissistic personality disorder, what about the others? What do they have?"

"Alright then, who do I start with?"

"How about the people at the table?" Harry offered.

"Okay, so Neville has your basic case of severe anxiety, which is pretty common here. But it is strange that he is in the red group and has anxiety. Most anxiety cases belong in the yellow group."

"What is this about groups?" Harry questioned.

"Oh you know, you, Dean, Seamus, and Neville are part of the red group for group therapy. It's led by those graduate students! I think for you its Godric Gryffindor who leads the discussion. I'm part of the green group which is led by—"

"Let me guess, Salazar Slytherin?"

"Are you remembering then?"

"No, it's just the names of the house founders at Hogwarts." Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Gryffindor is the house of the brave and adventurous, Slytherin is the house of the cunning and prideful, Hufflepuff has the hardworking and loyal, and Ravenclaw has the wise and creative."

"Yeah, yeah, the yellow and blue groups are led by Helga and Rowena. The green group deals with the amazing narcissistic folks, and various personality disorders like antisocial and whatnot. The yellow group has the anxiety and attachment disorder people. The blue group has the people with severe ADHD and autism spectrum disorders. And finally, the red group deals with the schizophrenic cases, like you, impulse control disorders, and has high risk people like Dean."

"Dean is a high risk person?"

"Oh yeah," Draco nodded, "severe depression and anorexia."

That explained his appetite. Harry wished he had the old Dean back, but he also wanted to help this Dean.

"What does Seamus have then?"

"He's a good one." Draco chuckled. "He's a pyromaniac."

"A what?"

"He likes to set things on fire."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so don't give him any matches if you want to live."

"Thanks for the warning." Harry paused for a second before asking his next question. "What about Ron and Hermione?"

Did he really want to know? Maybe not knowing would be better. He could preserve the image he had of them in his head.

Draco hesitated for a slight interval. "What about them?"

"Well, first of all, where are they?"

"Not here."

Harry resisted rolling his eyes. "So they're not crazy like us?"

_That's good, right?_

"They come in and visit you once in a while." Draco grinned. "If you see them, tell them I said 'hi.'"

"You're friends with Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked, disbelievingly.

"We get along."

That was another difference between this world and his.

"What? Just because they're your friends they can't get along with me too?" Draco remarked at Harry's distrusting look. "Maybe they like me even more than you!"

"I didn't even realize it was possible for you to make friends, Malfoy," Harry shot back.

"Whatever, Potter," Draco stood, holding his empty plate. "Have fun figuring out the rest of reality. I am going to do anything else but sit and talk to you because frankly, I have better things to do."

"What? Like harassing first years?"

"Exactly," Draco confirmed as he made his way to the garbage can.

Sitting at the table by himself, Harry wasn't really sure what to do next.

Based on the clock, it was past dinner time and Harry had nothing to eat today beside his below average breakfast. But he was not really that hungry as today had been quite the adventure, and not the good kind. He learned so much about what happened to his friends and the thought made him sick to his stomach.

None of them deserved what they had to go through. Not even Malfoy.

In this situation, Harry wished he could go back to the time when his problems could be solved by destroying seven horcruxes.

Of course, that task was not simple, but it was a task with simple rules. Get. Rid. Of. Horcruxes.

Here, Harry had no idea what exactly to do. Get. Rid. Of. Schizophrenia?

He didn't know how to help Seamus or Dean. He didn't know how to calm Neville. He had no idea what was wrong with George.

He was stuck. Utterly stuck.

A part of Harry, the logical side (the Hermione side), reasoned that perhaps Harry had created his fantasy world with the seven horcruxes so it would make his life easier. Give his life a purpose. And then the last horcrux was himself. So he had to destroy part of himself, the schizophrenic side, to complete his mission. Maybe that's why he woke up and ended up here, the same night he had just defeated Voldemort. The same night he had died (gone through his deep brain stimulation surgery) and came back to life (woke up).

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. Squinting and rubbing his eyes, Harry tried to deny the fact that it all made sense.

How could magic even exist? It was crazy!

No, no. He couldn't think like that.

He couldn't think like they wanted him to.

Getting up from the table, Harry decided to walk around to clear his head.

Strolling through various hallways, Harry walked past Moaning Myrtle cleaning the bathrooms, the Bloody Baron wiping away something that bore a strong resemblance to vomit, and Nearly Headless Nick whistling as he vacuumed the floors.

Turns out, Nearly Headless Nick was not nearly headless at all! It was simply an intricate tattoo that made it look like his head was separated from his body. Easy mistake to make, Harry guessed. You know, if one was crazy.

So the headmaster is the doctor, the professors are the nurses, the ghosts are the janitors, and the students are the patients.

What's next? The owls are just really hairy mailmen?

Whatever, he did not want to find out.

Then, Harry came across something familiar.

The Hogwarts library!

Harry entered the room and ran his hands across the spines of the books on the shelves. Those books brought back so many memories.

He remembered Hermione excitedly flipping through the books, quoting her favorite lines out loud, and then proceeding to check twenty books out at the same time. Usually, that wasn't allowed, but the librarian loved her so much, she could take out as many books as she wanted. It really helped during the OWLs, to have a friend who literally had all the books, and information, within her grasp. Oh, how he missed his friends.

A specific book caught his eye. It was about how to help a friend with an eating disorder. Remembering Dean, Harry gingerly reached for the book and flipped through it.

Deciding it was worth a read, Harry brought the paperback instruction manual over to Madam Pince to check it out and walked out to bring it back to his room.

Once he stepped out of the library, Harry felt a chill run down his back.

Right in front of him was the man he had just recently killed.

Lord Voldemort.

Except, the face he had now was not the face that haunted Harry's dream.

No, this Voldemort was the one from the Chamber of Secrets.

Tom Riddle.

Rather than the pale skin and slit nose, this Voldemort had a healthy complexion, a chiseled jaw, and rather flouncy soft dark hair.

He looked… normal and young and… human. Nothing like the soul sucking monster back home.

But Harry couldn't process any of that. All he could see was Lord Voldemort: the monster who killed his friends and family. The monster who should be dead.

Harry dropped his book to the ground and seeing flashes of red in his eye, let out a feral shout and pounced at Riddle, punching him and kicking him and viciously attacking him as much as he could.

He didn't really have a plan. He just knew he couldn't allow Voldemort to hurt any more of his friends. Not when they were as weak and vulnerable as they were now.

"Harry!" Riddle shouted, "Harry! Stop! Help! Help!" Riddle used his arms to block any attacks to his face, but did not engage in any behaviors to hit Harry back or harm him in any way.

The whole time, Riddle kept shouting at Harry to calm down and stop attacking him, but Harry heard none of it. This monster had to pay for what he did… again.

Suddenly, Harry felt a sharp prick in his neck and something being injected.

At once, Harry felt woozy and his grip on Tom Riddle loosened.

"Doctor Riddle, are you alright?" Hagrid asked. He was the one who injected Harry.

"Hagrid?" Harry whispered as he stumbled around for balance. "Hagrid, he's back. Voldemort's back."

Harry was getting dizzier and dizzier as the tranquilizer set in. He heard Hagrid say, "I'll take him to the Isolation Room."

"Yes, thank you, Hagrid," Riddle replied.

_No, no, no, no, no._

"He's back," Harry kept muttering.

The same words spilled out of his mouth, and it kept coming until he lost consciousness and drifted into oblivion.

_He's back, he's back. Voldemort is back._


	3. I Must Not Tell Truths

" _Harry! Harry! Look here!" A man with messy black hair and hazel eyes blew bright, round bubbles that made their way towards Harry's face, popping right on his nose._

_Harry let out a happy squeal and giggled, clapping his chubby hands together._

_Fifteen month old Harry Potter was having the time of his toddler life playing with his father._

" _Dada, mo'! Mo' buba!" Harry bounced eagerly wanting to see more of the glistening balls._

" _More bubbles? Well, you're gonna have to get up and walk towards me, mister." James reached out his arms and beckoned for his growing boy to come towards him._

_Harry went to a crawl position and pushed himself with his hands up to his feet. Then he quickly waddled over to his dad who waited with open arms._

" _Good job, Harry!" James praised as he lifted Harry up. "You are so fast, yes you are."_

_He tossed Harry a few inches in the air and caught him again making Harry fall into uncontrollable laughter once more. Nothing could make James happier than the sound of Harry's laughter._

" _James Potter," a voice called behind him._

_Ok, so Harry's laughter and that voice. The voice of a beautiful, red-headed angel._

" _Yes, my dear wife?" James asked, sweetly._

" _Dinner's ready and you still haven't cleaned up yet," Lily said in a voice that was supposed to be annoyed but only sounded full of love, especially after watching her husband and son, the two loves of her life, playing together._

" _Mama! Buba, buba!" Harry cried out from James's lap._

" _I promised Little Prongs more bubbles if he walked towards me." James showed Lily his best pleading doe eyes. "Don't make me break a promise, Lils."_

_Lily rolled her eyes at his antics and smiled. "Fine, a few more bubbles, but you're feeding Harry his veggies this time, not me."_

" _Oh, no." James turned towards Harry. "You sure you want to see these bubbles?"_

_Harry just showed him an innocent, toothless smile._

_After more messy bubbles and an even messier dinner (James had more mashed potatoes in his hair than Harry had in his stomach), the family of three sat on the couch to unwind and relax for the day._

_Harry sat on Lily's stomach and played with her red hair while Lily had her feet on James's lap as he massaged it._

_Watching his wife and son interact, James couldn't help but smirk his famous Potter smirk. "He loves your hair. I bet you he's going to marry a red-head."_

_Lily scoffed. "How can you possibly know that?"_

" _All Potter men do."_

_At Lily's disbelieving eyebrow raise, James continued, "I swear it! My dad married my mom, a red-head. My grandmother was a red-head, and now you. Harry can't break Potter tradition!"_

" _I think we should just love whoever Harry decides to marry," Lily remarked, using her big toe to softly poke at James's face._

" _Of course," James replied, his fingers tickling the soles of Lily's feet, "but they'll definitely be a red-head."_

" _Whatever you say, oh great seer."_

_Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door._

_James looked at Lily and raised an eyebrow. "Expecting anyone?"_

_Lily pursed her lips in thought and shook her head 'no'._

" _Huh," James got up to open the door and—_

" _TRICK OR TREAT!" A little boy in a pale-faced vampire costume was at the door with a pillowcase stuffed with various colorful chocolates and candies._

" _Trick or treat? It's Halloween? It's Halloween! Lily, it's Halloween!" James announced._

" _Halloween? Already?" Lily got up from the couch with Harry on her hip._

" _Yeah, lady. It only comes around at the same time every year," the kid sarcastically stated._

_Lily's eyes widened in surprise. "Excuse me?"_

" _You guys got any candy or what?"_

" _Well, uh," James scratched the back of his head. "Lily, don't you have that stash of Mars Bars hidden away somewhere?"_

_Lily gave James a threatening glare and whispered, "You want me to give away my precious Mars Bars to that bratty kid?"_

" _You want to see our house get egged?" James whispered back, nodding his head to the kid who definitely had some experience egging houses._

_Lily let out an exasperated breath and went upstairs to grab the candy bar._

" _So, kid. You enjoying school?" James tapped his foot awkwardly._

" _I'm here for the candy, not for small talk."_

" _Right…"_

_By that time, Lily returned with her candy and dropped it into the boy's pillowcase. "And it was my last one too," she muttered._

_The vampire kid smiled brightly. "Happy Halloween!" and he was gone._

_James shut the door and he and Lily let out a sigh of relief._

" _Thank you for your huge sacrifice, my love," James said, placing both his hands softly on either side of Lily's face._

" _Don't mock me, Potter."_

" _I wouldn't dream of it, Evans." He kissed her sweetly._

_How could he be so lucky to end up with the most beautiful girl in the world?_

" _We need to get more candy. For the children and for me. My last Mars Bar!" Lily stated._

" _Yup." James was brought back to reality._

" _I'll get the keys."_

" _One of us should stay here," James suggested, scratching the back of his head._

" _And deal with those candy devouring monsters? You can stay if you want."_

" _Alright, fine, we'll both go."_

_Lily smiled in victory and began walking to the car to put Harry in his car seat. "Harry, sweetie. Don't be like your parents and lose track of the dates. Otherwise, your house might get egged."_

_Harry just giggled._

_The car started and Harry began to get fussy. Once they were on the main road, Harry was nearing a full blown temper tantrum._

" _Okay, Lily. What do we do?" James looked in the rearview mirror to see Harry banging his hands on the car seat and crying his eyes out._

" _Um, maybe we should get him Padfoot? That little dog toy that Sirius got him? It always made him feel better."_

" _Alright, good idea. I think it's in the trunk." James nearing a traffic light, moved towards the side of the road and parked on the shoulder with his hazard lights on._

_Lily quickly got out the side of the car and opened the trunk. "Ugh, James, the trunk is a mess. I thought we cleaned this. I can't see anything!"_

" _Things move around in the back when the car moves, Lils." James got out of the car to help Lily find the toy._

_Once he reached the back of the car, he had to agree with Lily. "It is a mess."_

_Lily put her hands on her hips. "What'd I tell you?"_

" _Let's find this toy and get back inside, it's freezing out here."_

_The traffic light was red._

_Out of nowhere a car came careening towards them. The way he was driving, the man was definitely drunk._

" _Lily? Somethings wrong, get inside the car with Harry."_

" _What are you talking about? The light is red and no one is on the road" Lily's head and part of her body was tucked inside the trunk. "I think I see Padfoot."_

" _No, Lily." James began to panic. "Lily, there's a car. It's getting closer!"_

" _James, what?" She took her head out of the trunk, the furry Padfoot doll clutched in her hands, but it was too late._

_James covered Lily and tried to push her out of the way, but the car was too close._

_There was a screeching and a crash and a thud._

_There was broken glass and puffy air bags and spilled blood._

_The last thing on James and Lily's mind before they left the world forever was their son._

_The last thing on little Harry's mind before his eyes closed shut from trauma was the face of the drunk man stumbling out of the car._

_The last thing on Tom Riddle's mind before he passed out drunk on the road was the red traffic light turning green._

"Avada kedavra."

Harry gasped and stood upright from his sleeping position. What the bloody hell was that? A dream or a flashback? How could he have even remembered all that at such a young age?

Harry felt his forehead throb in pain and remembered the origins of his scar; his lightning scar came from a jagged piece of glass that found its way from the broken car window to his head.

And… Tom Riddle. He was in the dream or memory. The man who killed his parents. The man who was standing right in front of him.

Harry tried to move but realized he was stuck in a straitjacket. His hands were confined and his feet were bound together with some kind of white strap.

"What did you say to me?" Harry rasped, his throat dry from all the yelling.

"Abracadabra? You always seemed to like magic, so I use it to wake you up," Riddle explained.

Harry glared. "Don't."

Riddle shrugged. "I do what I can and using certain words gets you to do certain things, so I'm not going to fight it. Now, I have Peter Pettigrew, my physician assistant, with me, Mister Potter, so don't try anything like before."

Harry scoffed. "What's that rat going to do?"

"For one, he has the same injection that subdued you last time, so I'm sure you don't want another taste of that."

"Why are you here?" Harry pulled at the straitjacket, leaned as close as he could to Riddle, and said through gritted teeth, "You killed my parents."

If Tom Riddle was surprised by that statement in any way, his face did not show it. "Peter," he instructed calmly but assertively, "Please leave and close the door on your way out."

"Yes, sir," Peter squeaked out.

As soon as Peter left, Harry growled, "I saw it! You were driving the car that killed them and so you just got away with it? And-and what? You're a doctor, now?"

"Mister Potter, I will let you out of isolation if you keep calm and rid yourself of these false insinuations that I had anything to do with your parents' death. You were too young to remember any of it and now you choose to blame me. But I don't want to do anything but help you."

"No. I know you did it and I will find a way to prove it or I will kill you myself." Harry kept trying to break out of his bonds but it was to no avail.

"This is the kind of talk that keeps you in the Isolation Room for days. I know you don't want that, so I will leave you here to your thoughts and check on you in a few hours to see if you changed your mind."

"I will get out of here!" Harry threatened as he watched Riddle leave. "I swear I will kill you!"

But the door had already shut.

Harry let out a frustrated yell and squeezed his eyes shut really tight.

He wished that this was all some horrible nightmare that he could just wake up from. Why wasn't he awake yet?

The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes felt like hours, and the hours felt like days.

Harry sat there, alone in his thoughts. His hatred for Volde—Riddle only grew.

Before he knew it, he found himself drifting off to sleep again.

"How long are we just gonna watch him snore, 'Mione?" a voice complained in a hushed tone.

"For as long as we can, Ronald," another voice retorted quietly, "Harry is our friend and we need to make sure he's alright."

Harry woke up to those whispering voices. Wait a minute. He knew those voices!

"Harry, you're awake!" the bushy haired girl exclaimed.

"Took you long enough," the red haired boy stated.

"Ron! Hermione! Are you guys a sight for sore eyes! You will not believe what is happening," Harry exclaimed leaning towards them.

"Woah, mate." Ron put both his hands up and backed away. "We don't want your crazy juices all over us."

Hermione hit Ron on the arm and glared. Hermione, unlike Ron, did not shy away from Harry. Rather, she sat at the edge of the bed, close enough to touch.

"Crazy juices? You—you think I'm crazy too?" Harry was heartbroken.

"We don't think you're crazy, Harry. You just need some time to heal your mind. Doctor Riddle told us that the abuse you faced from Nurse Umbridge set your recovery back but he also said that the surgery should help," Hermione assured, softly.

Harry looked alarmed. "Umbridge is here too?"

"No, you don't have to worry about that. Officer Firenze arrested her, she will never be able to hurt you or anyone else ever again."

"So the centaurs are police officers?"

"They're not half horses, Harry. They just eat like horses," Ron joked.

"And that's funny coming from the king of eating himself," Harry joked back, getting used to the old golden trio dynamic. He was also kind of, maybe, adjusting to the idea that different groups of people represented different things in his mind. It was all very systematic. How convenient.

Harry was shaken out of his musings by Hermione's disappointed sigh. "You still believe in centaurs. So… the surgery didn't work," she concluded, looking downcast.

Harry shimmied his body until he was positioned at the edge of the bed next to Hermione. Out of everyone in his life, he would have thought for sure that Ron and Hermione would have believed him.

At Harry's dejected silence, Hermione continued, "We still love you, Harry. You are our best friend and nothing, absolutely nothing, is ever going to change that."

She reached her hand out to him and rubbed his arm in a way that comforted Harry, down to the bottom of his soul, as Ron sat on the ground criss-cross facing the two of them.

"You two are still my friends, even though you think I'm crazy?" Strangely, the thought did make him feel better. This was the best news he had heard in a while.

"Of course!" Ron commented, "It just makes for better stories. Remember when you told me that I used my amazing chess skills to get some psychology rock?"

"Philosopher's Stone and that would be first year, yes."

"And—and" Ron burst out laughing, "Remember when you told us that Hermione made a ponydrink potion that turned her into a cat?"

"Polyjuice," Harry muttered.

Hermione tried to hide her smile. "Quiet, Ronald. Harry, we are always going to be here for you. You don't ever have to worry about that."

Harry mutely nodded.

Just then, the door opened and profess-sorry, nurse Slughorn walked in.

"Harry," Slughorn announced, "my favorite patient! Are you ready for your medication?"

"Please, I'm fine. I don't need it," Harry protested as he watched Ron and Hermione get up and make way for Slughorn to walk to his bedside.

"Come now, Harry! I promise you will like this. I brought you Madam Rosmerta's famous pumpkin juice to wash it all down with."

"You know, for mental institution cafeteria food, that lady makes really good food," Ron commented.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, you like anything that even resembles food."

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. "What do I do?" he pleaded.

"Why, you just drink it, my boy." Slughorn put the medication on the table and seeing that Harry had his hands tied up from the straitjacket promised him. "I will take you out of that, what I assume to be, uncomfortable contraption if you take the medicine."

Hermione gave Harry a small smile as Ron nodded reassuringly. "That's all you have to do, Harry. It's going to be alright."

Was it going to be alright? At least his friends were here and even if they did not believe him, they still stayed with him and that was more than enough.

"Ok," Harry sighed. "I'll take it."

"That's my boy!" Slughorn exclaimed as he began to release Harry from the hold of the jacket. He then placed the pumpkin juice and the pills in his hand. Harry quickly downed the pills and washed it away with the pumpkin juice.

The sweet and tangy taste of the juice reminded him of Hogwarts, his home. But here he was. Was this his home now? It couldn't be.

"Now, I was told to put you back in that jacket, but I trust you to take care of yourself and not hurt yourself. Will you be alright?" Slughorn asked as he cleaned up the empty cup and pill container.

Harry nodded, eagerly. "Yes, sir, I promise."

Slughorn nodded. "I'll see you in a few hours for your next dosage unless my shift ends and then it is Nurse McGonagall. Take care of yourself, my boy."

"Thank you, sir," Harry was very glad to know that Slughorn still had his favorites, which luckily still included Harry, even among mental institution patients.

When Slughorn left, Ron excitedly exclaimed, "This is perfect! With both your hands free, we can play chess!"

"Where the bloody hell did you pull that from?" Hermione asked, watching as Ron placed the box game on the bed and began setting it up.

Ron looked up from his activity and grinned. "It's portable."

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and laughed.

They played a couple of rounds while Hermione watched them and offered Harry suggestions for possible moves.

Even with Hermione's intelligence and Harry's wit, they could not beat Ron's expertise at the game.

During one round, Harry was almost close to beating him, but at the last possible second, Ron pulled a move that won him the game… again.

"Ha!" Ron shouted in delight. "You played yourself! Thinking you could beat a chess master like me."

"One of these days," Hermione grumbled, shaking her head. "We're going to beat you."

"You wish, 'Mione. I'd like to see you try though," Ron challenged as he began setting up the board again, but Harry was getting tired.

Of both the game and just mentally. He supposed it had something to do with the medication slowing his brain down for him. He realized he got tired very easily in this world/reality.

"Ron, I don't want to play anymore." Harry leaned back on the bed and stretched out his legs, struggling to hide a yawn.

Ron raised his eyebrows, but didn't argue and started cleaning up the chess pieces. One by one, the pieces of the portable chess game went back into the board and out of sight.

"Alright, what do you want to do then?" Ron asked, once again getting comfortable on the ground next to Harry's bed, allowing Hermione to seat herself at the end of the bed.

"Let's just talk," Harry suggested.

"About?"

Harry sighed, "I still don't remember much about this— my life," Harry paused remembering his dream about his parents' death, "And what I do remember, I don't even know if it's real or not."

"Okay," Ron thought about what to do next, "tell us what you want to know and we'll try to give you as much information as we can about it."

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. "Alright, I'll start off simple. If you lot are 'normal'," he used finger quotes for the word "normal" and Ron and Hermione both rolled their eyes, "how did we become friends?"

Hermione took over this question. "Well, I suppose we did become friends in a rather unconventional manner. I mean, you and Ron became friends because Ron was just here a lot and you offered him the cafeteria food and everyone knows Ronald becomes friends with anyone that offers him food—"

Ron pursed his lips in an attempt to argue but eventually decided against it, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Hermione continued, "You and I… well, that's a whole other story. I was sitting on the bench one day, just outside the institution, and this man tried to rob me!"

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What?" This was not the story he was expecting.

"Yeah, I know. I was so terrified, I should have just given him my bag, but for some strange reason, I held on and wouldn't let go."

Harry smiled a little, even though Hermione was so, so smart, she always had the spirit of a Gryffindor in her. You know, the spirit of bravery, not the spirit of "impulse control disorders."

"Then what happened?" Harry asked.

"You!" Hermione exclaimed, a look of love and pride in her eyes. "You just showed up out of nowhere. I think you were trying to escape, but instead of running further, you risked getting caught and you saved me from that horrid troll."

"I'm assuming I get caught, huh?" Harry questioned.

Hermione looked sad and pushed herself farther to the side of the bed, curling her legs up to her chest. "Yeah, you did. I'm so sorry,"

"I would do it again in a second. I would be here forever if it means keeping you safe," Harry said wholeheartedly.

Hermione had watery eyes as she looked close to tears. "But you didn't even know me then! And you still helped me. You're a good person, Harry Potter. And you don't deserve this hell," She gestured to the white, isolation room. "After you saved me, I tried to visit you as much as I could, and now you are my best friend."

"Hey, you keep ignoring me!" Ron jokingly protested, a twinkle in his eye.

"You're different, Ronald." Hermione shook her head, a little tear escaping her eye after retelling that story.

"Yeah," Ron said, tenderly. "I am."

"Oh," a realization struck Harry, "are you two a… a thing?"

Hermione blushed. "I mean, maybe. Yes? It's all really new, but..." She bit her lip and reached out her hand to hold Ron's as he scooted closer to her. "Yeah, we are a thing."

Ron smiled. "Yeah, we are," he echoed.

Harry grinned. "My two best friends, who would have thought."

"I know," Ron remarked, "I thought it would never happen."

Hermione playfully flicked his ear, "Well, maybe if you had asked me out sooner and not been a jealous loser when I dated other people, we would have happened years ago."

At Ron's indignation, Harry shrugged. "She's got a point. Anyway, so I saved Hermione from a troll—"

"Not an actual troll, Harry," Hermione reminded.

"Right." Harry slowly nodded. "But Ron, why were you here a lot?"

At Ron's grim silence, Harry realized, "…George."

"Yeah, mate," Ron confirmed.

"Did you go see him?"

"I'm going to see him right after this."

"He thinks—well, he thinks he's—"

"This guy named Fred? I know. George has dissociative identity disorder. Apparently, he had a twin who died and now he thinks he's both of them. I've never even met Fred."

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said, as Hermione ran her hands through Ron's hair, comfortingly.

"Me too," Ron replied.

In that silence, the trio heard the door click open and watched as nurse McGonagall came in with Harry's next dosage of medicine.

This time, Harry took it without any argument or protest.

"Doctor Dumbledore is on his way here for his shift, so expect a visit from him soon," McGonagall warned before she left.

"Oo." Ron breathed in deeply, wearily scratching the back of his head. "Old Dumbles doesn't really like us being here because we 'entertain your fantasies' or whatever."

"That is so not true. Ron entertains your fantasies. I am perfectly fine coming here on my own. I don't let Harry believe his stories," Hermione argued.

"Well, that's cause you're boring," Ron shot back.

"Or maybe I just don't want our best friend to be stuck here for the rest of his life!"

"And you think I want him to be here?"

"Guys, please stop arguing!" Harry felt his never-ending headache get worse. It was like the scar on his head was still hurting him.

"Sorry, Harry," his two friends said simultaneously.

"But Ron is right, we better be off before Dumbledore gets here." Hermione hopped off the bed and held out both her hands to help Ron get up from the floor.

Together, they went towards the door, but it was too late because Dumbledore had opened it and was standing in front of them.

Ron and Hermione looked stricken with fear until Ron shouted, "Run, Hermione, run! Bye, Harry!"

They both comically went around Dumbledore and ran down the hall.

"Professor, they were just leaving, they didn't mean any harm visiting me," Harry assured the doctor, biting his lower lip to hide a smile.

But Dumbledore looked very grim and not focused on anything Harry was saying, "Harry, I just talked with Doctor Riddle about why you are here. You attacked someone. A medical professional. That is a serious offense."

"Look, professor... doctor, whatever. I know Riddle is evil. I don't care if he's a brilliant doctor who's healing the world. I know it in my heart. You have to believe me. He killed my parents. He was responsible for the car crash, I saw it."

"You saw it?" Dumbledore wrote something down on his notepad.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I had this dream and it was my parents dying in the car crash and it was Riddle driving the car that killed them."

Dumbledore was silent for a minute then said, "This is good."

Harry scrunched his eyebrows questioningly before asking, "…what?"

"This is good progress, Harry. You've come a long way."

"Hold on, you came here to yell at me for attacking Riddle, which by the way, he deserved it, and now you're saying it's a good thing that I hate his guts and want him dead?"

"Not the wanting Doctor Riddle dead part, we still have to work on that, but the part about you remembering. It was a car crash that killed your parents, Harry. Not some wizarding duel and magic death spell."

Harry wanted to interrupt and say that his parents' death in the other world wasn't much of a duel either because neither James nor Lily had any time to prepare or fight back, but he kept that little tidbit of information to himself.

"Perhaps, memories of the real world and your fantasy world are combining together. Soon, you will regain all your memories of this world and we will be able to rehabilitate you back into society. It seems the medication and surgery are finally doing its job, it just took a little time." Dumbledore seemed proud of his medical breakthrough; his guinea pig was finally yielding results in his favor.

"You mean, I am going to forget everything in my fantasy world?" Harry's voice sounded shaky.

Even if it wasn't real, he still had so many happy memories in his fantasy. He was going to lose all of that and just remember the drab mental institution and all of his horrible experiences here. His life must have been the absolute worst if he had created a whole new world in his mind to mask this reality.

Losing the fantasy meant losing quidditch, magic, adventures, friendships, family… Hogwarts.

"Don't you think maybe that's a good thing?" Dumbledore inquired, "To let go?"

"I don't have anything for me here." Harry rubbed his eyes, tiredly.

"That's not true, you still have your family," Dumbledore offered.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore with a questioning gaze. "My parents are dead. Car crash or magic death spell, they've always died when I was a baby."

"I wasn't talking about your parents, I was talking about your aunt and uncle. It's been a while since you've spoken with them." Dumbledore walked towards the telephone hanging on the side of the room. "You can speak with them if you'd like."

"Why would I want to talk with them? They hate me, they put me here."

"That means they are the ones who can take you out of here, Harry. They are your legal guardians."

"I'm seventeen, so I am of age. I can check myself out of here if I wanted to."

"Harry, you're not legally an adult until you're eighteen and that's not how the rules work here. You need a legal guardian to sign you out. Until then, you are under our care. So I would suggest you call your aunt and convince her you are doing better."

"This is a load of bull—"

"I know, Mister Potter, but sadly, I don't make the rules." Dumbledore held the phone out to Harry.

"No," Harry agreed as he held the phone in his hand, the number to his Aunt Petunia already dialed in. "You just follow them."

Dumbledore didn't reply to that statement. "I'll give you your privacy; I'll be doing my rounds and check up on you a little while later."

Harry nodded as he put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring.

On the third ring someone answered, "Hello?"

"Dudley," Harry said, "It's me—"

But Harry's cousin had already put the phone down on the table. "MAAAAAAA, IT'S HIM!"

Him…

Dudley couldn't even say Harry's name.

"Just hang up, Dudley," a gruff voice replied faintly in the background. Harry recognized it to be Vernon Dudley, his uncle.

"Throw the whole damn phone away if that psycho boy knows our number," Vernon continued.

"I'll just see what he needs," another voice, his Aunt Petunia, reasoned.

Harry heard the phone being picked up again and by the creaking of the stairs, Harry knew his Aunt was going to a different room upstairs where her husband and son could not hear her.

"Harry," she spoke into the phone.

"Hi, Aunt Petunia," Harry awkwardly answered, he didn't know how this conversation was going to go.

"How are you?" Petunia genuinely seemed to care.

"I think I'm doing better, at least that's what Dumbledore says."

"That's good."

Harry cleared his throat. "So, uh, since I'm doing better, I was wondering if maybe you would sign me out of here."

Sign me out, rescue me from this hell hole. They both meant the same thing in Harry's mind.

"Harry," Petunia said, softly. "You know I can't do that until Doctor Riddle says you are of the right mind."

"You mean until he says I'm sane?" a thought suddenly dawned on Harry. "Aunt Petunia, how did my parents die?"

Petunia was silent for a second. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Tell me the truth about my parents' death," Harry reiterated.

"They died in a car crash, Harry. I thought you knew that. Doctor Dumbledore told me you were getting bet—"

"Who was responsible?" he questioned.

"I don't- I don't know what you're talking about," Petunia stuttered, her voice shaking.

Harry clutched the phone tightly in his hands. "Yes, you do. I know you know. Tell me the truth, I am sick of people lying to me. If you truly care about me, tell me the truth."

"Harry, I want to protect you. That's all I ever wanted to—"

"Then tell me the bloody truth." Harry had to keep his temper in check, if he raised his voice, people would come knocking and he would never know, not for sure at least.

The people here, they were trained to keep secrets from their patients. Aunt Petunia wasn't, which meant Harry could break her.

"It was Riddle, wasn't it? Doctor Riddle?" Harry jeered. "I know it. I know he killed them."

Petunia didn't say anything, but the ragged breaths from the other side as Petunia sought to hold back her tears proved everything.

"Please, Aunt Petunia." Harry changed his tactics. "Please, I need to know. The more I know about this world, the real world, the better I become."

"Yes, Harry," Petunia finally let out, there was some rustling sounds from the phone as Petunia grabbed some tissues to wipe her face of tears. "It was Riddle who was driving drunk that night and he was the one who killed your parents. I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so, so sorry."

Harry was struck speechless. While he knew the truth, it was strange to have someone else confirm it.

"How is he still a doctor?" Harry asked bitterly. "How is he not in jail? He murdered my parents!"

"The system isn't fair, Harry. I am so sorry. Riddle made some deal and with his wealth and status…" Petunia paused and breathed in and out deeply. "We know this isn't the most ideal situation, but Riddle is the best doctor for your condition, Harry. We wanted to give you the best opportunities, it's what your parents would have wanted. Lily would have wanted you to be treated by the best, no matter their history."

"No. No, it isn't. This isn't what they would have wanted and you know it. Me being locked up in this institution. You think this is what my parents would have wanted? What Lily would have wanted? You and I both know that's just not true. You keep telling yourself it is to make yourself feel better but you are just a selfish person who didn't want to deal with your dead sister's child. Did you ever even truly love her? Your sister. Or did your jealousy of everything she—"

But before Harry could finish his sentence, Aunt Petunia had hung up. Another relationship down the drain. Of course, he had let his temper ruin what might have been his only chance to escape this place.

"Merlin." Harry clenched his fists and fell face first down onto a pillow. "What the bloody hell do I do now?" he asked no one in particular.

He could…

1\. Take a nap (he had been taking quite a few of those lately)

2\. Scream loudly and get sedated (again)

3\. Read a book (since when did he turn into Hermione?)

Well, he did check out that book about eating disorders to help Dean so he might as well give it a shot, he had nothing better to do anyway.

So Harry grabbed the book off his nightstand and began reading. He was deep into chapter two when he heard the door creak open.

Looking up and expecting to see Dumbledore, Harry was surprised, to say the least, to see the face of Riddle staring back at him.

Noticing that Harry was not in his straitjacket anymore, Riddle made sure to keep his distance from Harry and to keep Hagrid, who was by the door, closer.

"Harry, it is great to see you calmer. Is there anything you would like to say to me?" Riddle smiled as if there was nothing wrong in the world, as if he wasn't the man who murdered two innocent people.

"Yes, I would." Harry took a deep breath and dog-eared the page he was on, before putting the book to the side. "I don't believe you killed my parents, I don't believe in magic, and I think I am getting better."

Riddle thought about it for a minute, trying to see if Harry had any tricks up his sleeves before coming to the conclusion that Harry was being honest.

"Alright then, Harry. You are free to join the others in the common room."

Harry mutely nodded and made his way past Riddle to the unlocked door of his isolation room.

Out of the three statements he made to Riddle, he only truly lied about one of them.

Of course the lie was about not believing Riddle was the one who killed his parents. But the other two… those two weren't as big a lie as the first.

_I don't believe in magic. I think I am getting better._

If Harry had to pretend to make it in this world, then that's what he was going to do.

_I don't believe in magic. I think I am getting better._

If he believed in magic, he was not getting better. If he stopped believing… that's what everyone wanted of him, right?

Ron and Hermione wanted him to be normal, so they could have a normal friend. Dumbledore wanted his surgery to go right. Aunt Petunia didn't want a freak of a nephew.

_I don't believe in magic. I think I am getting better._

Harry stepped out of the room and into the hallway.

Maybe Dumbledore was right. Maybe it was a good thing to let go.

The more he thought about it. The more he believed his own words.

_I don't believe in magic. I think I am getting better._


	4. Happily Ever Never

Leaving isolation, Harry was once again greeted by the same bland, sickly clean atmosphere that uniquely belonged to the Hogwarts Mental Institution.

Hagrid stood by his side as he walked to his normal room (not the one in isolation, so the most normal room you could get at a mental institution).

According to the clock, it was almost nighttime, so Harry was expected to go to sleep, but he didn't feel tired at all. After all, he was sort of in the middle of an existential crisis. He couldn't be telling the caretakers that, because they would just decide to fill him up on pills again till he passed out.

The pills had a strange effect on him. He felt like they were clearing his mind (making him forget about magic), but they were also clouding it (he couldn't focus on a damn thing).

He didn't know what to think. Literally.

Harry took in a deep breath, which he immediately regretted as he was hit with the horrible mothball smell.

_Now what?_ Harry thought to himself.

He got out of isolation, but he was still here. Still stuck. Lost.

Making his way to room, Harry decided to focus on the positive. If he was insane, at least now he was on the way to improvement. Even if Hogwarts the school wasn't real, he still had his friends here at Hogwarts the Mental Institution. He had Luna and Neville, Fred and George (even though they were essentially the same person), and most importantly, he had Ron and Hermione. They were the best part out of all of this.

As he lay in bed, Harry began to dream of tomorrow.

This was his life now. He had to learn to live with it.

Maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

Who was he kidding?

_Positives_ , Harry reminded himself, _focus on the positives._

Ron and Hermione promised they would come visit again tomorrow, so he had that to look forward to.

And… that was about it.

So Harry slept and dreamed about chess, and bushy brown hair, and somewhere along the way, his dreams turned towards the likes of a beautiful girl with freckles and a penchant for bat-bogey hexes.

_Oh, how he missed Ginny…_

He dreamed about her laugh, her smile, her kiss, her everything.

_I love you, Harry_ , he heard her say, _Come back to me._

"I love you, too!" Harry wanted to shout to her, but he couldn't find the strength to open his mouth, so he just watched her beauty at a distance.

It was the best sleep he had in days.

The next morning, Harry woke up refreshed. He spoke with McGonagall, who came by during her morning rounds to drop off his first set of meds. She told him that today was the official Visiting Day for family, which meant that parents could come by to see their kids.

McGonagall suggested inviting his Aunt Petunia, but after yesterday's phone call, Harry knew he had not just burned that bridge, but blew its ashes to the four corners of the earth.

When he entered the common room, Harry was met with an overflow of parents and loved ones greeting their children.

Harry placed a hand on his heart and felt the necklace with the wand imagery that was left to him by his parents. At least he had that to remember them by. A trinket medallion. Whenever he touched it, he felt more power. Like it really was his magic wand giving him the spells he needed. His lucky charm.

He looked around the room. It made him happy to see Neville with his grandmother. Seamus with his parents. George with…

"Mrs. Weasley! Mr. Weasley!" Harry exclaimed as he walked toward the redhead clan of Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Harry," Molly Weasley said, in a kind tone, "It's lovely to see you."

Bill and Charlie both smiled at Harry while Percy gave him a disdainful head nod.

"Yeah." Harry grinned at the site of the familiar faces. "How are you? How is everyone?"

Arthur replied, "Yes, we're good, I think—"

Suddenly, Harry felt his entire world turn still.

"Ginny?" Harry whispered.

The red haired girl peeked out from behind her father and many brothers, but she did not seem happy to see Harry at all. She muttered something about waiting in the car and sped as far away as she could from Harry as she could.

"Wait, Ginny!" Harry exclaimed, he had to talk to her. But the look in her eye… was that fear?

"Ginny, why won't you talk to me?"

But Ginny had already turned around and was halfway out the door.

He tried to walk towards her but Molly quickly stood in his way, taking Harry aback. Mrs. Weasley was so happy at the idea of her daughter and the boy-who-lived finally getting together. This Mrs. Weasley looked the opposite.

"Harry dear, I think that it's best we let her be for now. Now, tell me how you are doing. How was the surgery?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley." Harry paused, perturbed by Ginny's distaste towards him until a sudden thought occurred. "Tell me, have you seen Ron or Hermione anywhere?"

"Ron and Hermione?" Molly tilted her head, confused, "I thought that—"

"Well look who it is," Draco announced, strutting up to them. "Why it's the poor and filthy red head clan."

"Go away, Malfoy," Harry threatened through gritted teeth.

"No, No. It's quite alright, Harry," Arthur said with incredible patience. "We'll just be on our way."

Arthur and Molly both bid their adieus with George and walked back out of the institution.

Charlie hugged George. "We'll be back, Georgie. Don't you worry."

"It's Fred," he corrected, but he still returned the hug and hugged Bill too. He also gave Percy a pat on the shoulder, considering Percy wasn't really the touchy-feely type.

Harry watched while they said their goodbyes and left.

"So, I'm assuming your girlfriend didn't show up?" Draco snarked.

Harry was heartbroken and said honestly, "She didn't talk to me. She couldn't even look at me. Why won't she talk to me?"

"Why won't she talk to you?" Draco repeated his question in a mocking tone. "Maybe because you went full out crazy on her when you were 12?"

"What?" Harry asked. "What did I do?"

"You know." Draco gestured wildly with his hands. "The snake!"

The snake? What did he do with a snake when he was 12?

"You mean the basilisk?" Harry questioned.

"Oh, that's right! You called it the basilisk. You don't remember, do you? You took that snake and spun it around your head chasing that girl!" Draco laughed. "It was absolutely brilliant! The highlight of my year, truly."

"No, I didn't— I didn't chase her. I saved her!"

"Right, because you are the savior. The chosen one."

Harry felt his heart skip a beat. He remembered when Ginny mocked him, teasingly saying, _The boy who lived! Potter, can I get your autograph!_

But in the stillness of the night, she would curl up on the couch beside him, the roaring flames of the fireplace warming the room and she would whisper tenderly, _I love you, Chosen One_ , and suddenly, all the burdens from being the savior of the wizarding world vanished. He was loved and that was all that mattered.

But now, Ginny was terrified of him and it seemed like self-absorbed Draco Malfoy was his only friend in this hellhole, if he could even call him that.

"But Dumbledore told me I was talking to her before Volde-ehm, Doctor Riddle operated on me," Harry argued, thinking that perhaps Draco was simply telling a lie.

Draco scoffed. "More like she stood a good thirty feet away from you while you kept professing your undying love for her as they dragged you away. I honestly don't know why you are so obsessed with her. There are plenty of other lovely ladies here." Draco tilted his head in thought. "Granted, they are all downright crazy, but so are you, so it should be a perfect match!"

"I need to go sit down." Harry didn't even bother to wait for Draco's snarky reply; his head was spinning. It was constantly spinning, like he was riding a rogue broom that thought up was down and left was right. He had gone completely off the rails. Bonkers.

Harry took a seat and put his head on the cool table.

Where were Ron and Hermione? They promised they would come. Maybe they left him too. Everyone else did.

No.

Harry couldn't think like that.

"Hey," Draco said, sitting in a seat next to him. His voice seemed different... softer. "Are you alright? Not that I really care, but we have a 'see something, say something' rule around here and I sort of want to see you get sedated and dragged away again cause I missed it the first time."

Harry turned his head so he faced Draco while his right cheek was still against the table. "Sorry to disappoint, Malfoy. Next time I get attacked by Hagrid and injected with a sedative, I'll make sure to let you know."

"That's all I'm asking."

Harry paused for a moment. "I want to get out."

"Don't we all?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious," Harry said, lifting his head up and looking Draco straight in the eyes. "No one is coming to get me. I need to break out of here. I'm sick of this place, Malfoy, and I've only felt like I've been here for a few days. I can't imagine living my life here. I want to get out and I will. But I can't do it alone. Are you in?"

Draco didn't answer his question, but rather asked another. "Are you stupid? If you get caught they'll have you in isolation for the rest of your life! They'll sedate you till you're basically a vegetable. That's what happened to Neville's parents."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"This isn't the best bloody institution in the world or whatever bullshit your family told you. This is the worst bloody institution. The cheapest one they could find. One star on Yelp. This is the institution your family sticks you in when they have no other choice and can't afford anything better, or in my case," Draco scowled bitterly, "this is where they stick you when they stop giving a damn about you."

"What happened to Neville's parents?" Harry asked, fear gripping his heart.

"Midazolam," Draco replied darkly. "Nurse Bellatrix Lestrange is what happened. She got a little happy with the meds and overdosed them both. They had severe seizures and after that, well, you can ask Longbottom the details, but they've never been the same."

"Where are they?" Harry remembered them in his memories, Frank and Alice walked around without having a clue in the world, not even recognizing their own son.

"They moved from the children's ward of Hogwarts to the adult institution, the one we're headed to next—"

"St. Mungos," Harry finished.

"Yeah and I heard Bellatrix still works there," Draco said.

"All the more reason to get out of here," Harry affirmed. "Do you want to come with me or not? You know this place better than me, probably better than anyone."

Harry wanted to play into Draco's ego by complimenting him.

Draco snickered. "And they said you were getting better. This is the most crazy you've ever been!"

"Keep your voice down," Harry shushed.

"And how do you even plan on making it in the real world? You've never even experienced it. You can't just be a wizard professor or auror or...um..." Draco scratched the back of his head. "Damn, are those all the jobs there are in the wizarding world?"

Harry clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. "Stop getting off topic. I don't care if this world is real and the fantasy is all in my head. I was raised with muggles, uh, normal people, so I know that anything is better than this place. They are just going to load me up with drugs until I die. I need to leave. I need to escape. I can find a job or whatever and worry about that once I'm out. But I need to get out. I need to—"

"Okay, calm down. I get that you want to get out. We all do. But you do realize that part of the reason they load us up on medicine is to make us sleepy and tired all the time so we're easier to catch, right?"

"Then we have to find a way to not eat them."

"You're too damn hopeful."

"I've gotten out of worse situations before."

"Yeah, in your head."

"And now I'm better."

Draco narrowed his eyes, studying Harry. "Are you actually, truly serious?"

Harry nodded affirmatively. "Absolutely."

Draco let out a short laugh, shaking his head slightly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I have nothing better to do, so why not? Let's break out of Hogwarts. Now, what's your genius plan to get us to do that?"

Harry grinned, glad to have one person on his side... even if the person was Draco. "First, we have to recruit more people."

"Good luck convincing them," Draco sarcastically replied, leaning backing in his chair.

"I'm in," a voice said behind them.

"Woah." Draco nearly fell out of his seat. "Where the bloody hell did you come from?"

"Fred was listening in and told me to come listen as well." George grinned, cupping his single ear.

"So Fred, George. You ready to escape?" Harry asked.

"We love a good adventure," George replied, speaking for the two of them.

"Perfect," Harry said. "Who else?"

"Neville?" George suggested.

"Hell, no. We are not inviting Schlongbottom," Draco asserted defiantly.

"You don't really get a say in this, Malfoy," Harry answered back using the same condescending tone.

"If we get caught, don't say I didn't warn you," Draco muttered, crossing his arms pettily.

The three of them looked up at the sound of people moving.

"Ah, group therapy time," Draco concluded. "I'll see you morons later."

Harry looked at George and Draco. "Try to find as many people who are willing to join us as you can. Let's meet at this table tonight for dinner."

They agreed and broke apart to join their group leader: Draco to Salazar Slytherin and George and Harry to Godric Gryffindor.

At group therapy, they discussed their problems, how they were feeling, blah, blah, but Harry wasn't listening.

"Seamus. Dean," Harry whispered. "I'm getting out of here, you in?"

"Out of therapy? Hell yeah," Seamus whispered back.

"No. Out of Hogwarts. For good."

"Are you serious?"

Why did everyone keep asking him that?

At Harry's firm nod, Seamus smiled so wide his face nearly split. "Then double hell yeah."

Harry raised his eyebrows; that was easier than he thought it would be.

"And Dean is in too, right Dean?" Seamus nudged Dean.

"Huh, what? Oh, yeah," Dean replied tiredly.

Harry looked at Dean in concern. He was getting weaker and weaker by the day and this place was making him worse, not better. Maybe getting out of Hogwarts would help Dean get a fresh start.

Godric Gryffindor began instructing people to break into smaller groups to "process their feelings more intimately", whatever the hell that meant.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Dean?" Harry asked as he adjust his chair so the three of them made a small circle. He needed everyone to be fully committed to the escape, otherwise it would not work.

"Look at me, Harry. I feel like shit and I'm not getting any better. I'm in, okay? It's not like I have anything to lose."

"You will get better," Harry affirmed.

"Yeah," Dean let out a huffed laugh that sounded pathetic.

"Yes, Dean," Seamus agreed, clutching Dean's boney shoulder. "You will. Once we get out, we'll get you the help you need."

Dean looked at the two of them and smiled. "Thanks guys."

"I'm loving the comradery here," Godric Gryffindor commented walking up to them.

"Oh, shove off, Godric!" Seamus yelled at his face.

"Yeah, ya prick!" Dean added.

After Godric awkwardly slinked away, Harry, Dean, and Seamus looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"I can't wait for the day we don't have to see his pretentious face anymore."

"Soon, buddy." Seamus threw his arm around Dean and promised, "Soon."

They stood up to walk to their rooms after Harry told them of his meeting at dinner.

"And be very discreet," Harry warned. "We can't have anyone untrustworthy find out about this."

"Find out about what?" a voice interrupted.

Harry looked up and froze in shock. "Cedric, you're-you-you're—"

"A volunteer here, I know," the golden-haired Hufflepuff answered.

_Alive._

The handsome young boy tousled his hair and had a twinkle in his eye. "So, find out about what? I'm a particularly good finder, if I do say so myself."

Harry was still speechless, "What the hell—", so Dean took over for Harry: "We're escaping Hogwarts."

"Dean!" Harry exclaimed, shock taking him out of his reviere.

"What?" Dean asked. "We can trust him. He's the most trustworthy person here."

"He used to go here," Seamus added.

"Until you died," Harry said, remembering that dreadful night as clear as day.

"No, Harry. I used to go here until I got released. I just volunteer here now," Cedric supplied kindly.

"Everyone: the nurses, the doctors, the staff, they all love him. He's like the only patient who actually got out of here. He's their golden boy," Dean said, smirking.

Cedric blushed. "I wouldn't say that."

"They would literally do anything he asks," Seamus continued, not minding the volunteer's shyness. "We could definitely use him to get out of here."

"And what makes you think I would want to help?" Cedric raised a brow.

"Do you?" Harry asked, nervously. He hoped Cedric wouldn't tell anyone and expose their plans.

"Definitely." Cedric nodded. "I owe you, Harry. You're the one who got me out."

"Huh." Harry scratched the back of his head. That was a better alternative to Harry being the one who led Cedric to his death.

"Cedric!" Nurse Sprout waddled over to the group. "What are you doing here?"

She hugged the boy as Cedric explained, "I'm just checking up on everyone, Pomona. I missed you," he said with a wink.

Pomona Sprout blushed deeply. "Well, boy, let me know if you need anything," she said, pinching his cheeks in a motherly fashion, and whispering not so discreetly, "and if those heathens are causing you any trouble, I can take care of them."

"Of course, but I'm sure they won't be a problem." Cedric smiled a 100 watt smile.

When she walked away, Harry turned to Cedric. "So everyone loves you."

Cedric shrugged, his bashfulness disappearing. "Pretty much. Sprout is one of the tame ones."

From the distance, the quartet saw Slughorn approaching.

"I have to go," Cedric said. "Slughorn is obsessed with me. We'll be talking for hours if he finds me."

Harry notified him about their dinner meeting and watched as Cedric ran in the opposite direction of Slughorn with the latter screaming out his name in excited glee.

Harry sighed. "What a team we have so far."

"What a team indeed," Dean agreed.

"Who else do we ask?" Seamus questioned.

"I guess, just Neville now," Harry concluded.

"You think Neville wants to be a part of this?" Seamus asked surprised.

"Why not?" Harry was curious as to why no one believed in Neville. He remembered the tame boy, so scrawny and scared. But he also remembered who he became. The brave man who pulled Godric's sword out of the Sorting Hat and slayed Nagini, the horcrux.

The three of them stood in front of Seamus's room. "That boy has severe anxiety and who knows what else," Dean reasoned.

"Yeah," Seamus agreed. "If anyone were to crack under the pressure and reveal our plans, it would be Neville."

"I believe in Neville," Harry asserted. "I trust him."

Dean and Seamus sighed and exchanged weary galnces.

"Whatever Harry," Dean concluded. "It's your plan. We'll see, I guess."

After Harry dropped Seamus and Dean in their respective rooms, he went to knock on Neville's door.

When Neville opened the door, Harry smiled and asked, "Can I come in?"

The boy looked confused, but allowed Harry to enter anyway. Harry didn't waste time beating around the bush and cut to the core of his escape. After he finished offering Neville his escape plan he waited patiently for him to process the whole idea.

"You want me to help?" Neville asked quietly.

"Of course, I want you to be a part of this. You would be so helpful," Harry encouraged.

"Did you ask the other people in the group if they wanted me in?"

At Harry's silence, Neville continued, "They didn't want me, huh?"

"I want you," Harry insisted. "I need you, Neville."

"I'm just the kid with issues and anxiety," Neville countered sadly.

"We all have issues, Neville. And in my world, my fantasy world, you were the bravest one out of all of us."

Neville half-smiled. "Your world sounds pretty great. Wish I could be in that one."

"Me too," Harry agreed. "But we have to make do with what we have and if we get out of here, we might actually have a chance at a better life."

"I'm almost 18," Neville almost whispered, as he fidgeted with his hands. "After Hogwarts, they're going to put me in St. Mungos."

Neville looked at Harry with terrified eyes, his voice shaking. "I can't go there."

Harry knew the reason why: Bellatrix.

"You won't have to go there, Neville. You won't."

"Alright, I'm in. I want to get out of here," Neville finally agreed.

"I'll see you at dinner, okay?"

At Neville's tentative nod, Harry stood and walked to his own room to begin his plan of escape.

His very own ragtag group of crazies reminded him so strongly of Dumbledore's Army. He missed his old Dumbledore.

Both Dumbledores, in this world and his fantasy, were good people. Harry knew that. But they had to put the greater good first, above everything else.

The old Dumbledore knew that Harry had to die to save the wizarding world. As Snape had put it, Harry was raised as a "pig for slaughter." But Harry had understood. He knew that Dumbledore really did care for him, but he had no other choice than to let Harry die. In the end, Dumbledore gave his life for that same greater good.

The new Dumbledore was also willing to sacrifice Harry for the greater good. For the advancement of the field of medicine and psychology. Fix one broken, schizophrenic boy, fix them all. Harry understood where this Dumbledore was coming from. He had to remain objective and not develop any attachment to his patients, but Harry sensed a sort of kinship with this Dumbledore as well, the same bond he had with the former.

Both Dumbledores wanted the best for Harry, but they also had to put the people first. And that was what made them such good leaders.

Harry wondered how Dumbledore would react to his escape.

If everything went according to plan, perhaps Dumbledore would never find out about it until it was too late.

Yes, this was Dumbledore's Army, but this Dumbledore would certainly not approve.

Once he was settled in his room, Harry began brainstorming a way to escape. Each person had to have a role in the escape and they all had to act perfectly for everything to go according to plan. How he wished Ron and Hermione were here to help him finalize the plan. He missed them when they did not show up as they had promised.

Something would definitely go wrong, Harry realized.

When had something ever gone right in his life?

Harry had a backup plan for every step, but in the end, he concluded that if all else fails, they would just run. Run for their lives and for their freedom.

By the time it was dinner, Harry had a comprehensible plan mapped out in his mind.

Walking to the table, Harry was greeted by his team that consisted of Neville, Cedric, Seamus, Dean, Draco, and most surprisingly, Cho Chang.

"Cho," Harry said, surprised.

"Hi, Harry," Cho greeted, sheepishly.

"I hope you don't mind, Harry," Cedric explained. "Cho and I always wanted to run away together, but with her being stuck here…" he trailed off.

"I get it," Harry said, knowingly. He was once jealous of Cedric and the love Cho had for him, but now he understood. "We'll get you out of here, Cho."

Cho beamed. "Thanks, Harry."

"Alright, wizard boy." Draco clapped his hands together. "Your team is here. What do we do now?"

Keeping his voice down as to not attract the attention of unwanted ears, Harry began explaining his plan in precise detail. All of a sudden, he heard a cough and when he looked up, he could see Ron and Hermione standing at the door of the common room staring at him.

The rest of his team looked at Harry and then at the door at Ron and Hermione.

"I'll be right back, guys," Harry said, as he walked towards his best friends.

"What are you planning, Harry?" Hermione asked, hands on her hips.

Harry scratched the back of his head. "What? Me? Planning?"

"Cut it out, Harry," Ron snapped. "We know you're doing something. You have your planning face when you come up with the weirdest ideas. Tell us what you're doing."

"If you came this morning when you promised, maybe I would," Harry snapped back.

Hermione sighed. "Harry, you know we would have come if we could. Dumbledore didn't want us to see you. We had to sneak around him. We're sorry, truly."

"I'm sorry too." Harry pursed his lips. "I shouldn't have gotten angry at you. I'm glad you're here now."

"We are too," Ron said. "Now tell us what you're planning."

Harry took a breath before blurting out, "Please don't tell anyone, but I'm escaping and I know it sounds crazy," Harry continued before they could interrupt him, "But I need to get out of here. I have to. I'm not asking for your help or anything. I don't want you guys to get in trouble, but that's what I'm doing."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and even without speaking, they came to the same decision.

Ron looked at Harry with a determined expression, that Harry rarely witnessed. "We're in."

"No, I can't ask you to do that. This is dangerous, not to mention, totally illegal. This is my burden and my choice."

The others, they were escaping for their lives and if they were caught, they would just be marked down as crazy. But Ron and Hermione, if they got caught, there would be serious repercussions for helping mental institution patients sneak out and escape their "sanctuary".

"But we're your friends! Harry, I might joke a lot about this place and your delusions, but even I can see this place is killing you, not helping you. With Umbridge and Crouch and Riddle, I'm surprised you haven't gone even more off the wagon! I want you out of here as much as you do." Ron had a grim expression on his face. "I am not abandoning you. Never again."

Harry didn't have time to ask what Ron meant by "never again" nor did he want to know. Harry assumed it correlated with the time Ron had left Harry and Hermione during the horcrux hunt, but his return only made their friendship stronger.

Harry walked towards Ron for a hug, but Ron backed up and put his hands up. "Hey, I still don't want your crazy juices all over me."

Harry let out a low laugh and shook his head. "Still with the jokes, huh?"

"I am the funny one," Ron reasoned. "I have to keep the morale up when we're fugitives on the run."

Then Harry remembered Hermione. "Even you Hermione? The most rule-following person in the history of rule-following?"

Hermione laughed. "You and I both know that changed when I became friends with you two idiots."

Harry grinned. "Then let's get the bloody hell out of here."

Harry Potter and the Escape From Hogwarts.

He could do this, especially with his best friends by his side.

Harry explained the plan so far to the three of them and they walked back to the table where Harry announced, "Ron and Hermione are helping too."

"Fine, whatever," Draco dismissed, while Ron stuck his tongue out at him. "What's the next step of the plan?"

"Dean should distract Hagrid, so it gives some of the other people a chance to get into position," Hermione suggested.

But Dean was too busy staring at his unfinished plate of food to hear her.

"Well, Dean?" Harry interrupted his musings.

Dean jumped a little and looked at Harry. "Well, what?"

"Are you willing to distract Hagrid so other people can get into position?"

Dean looked very out of it, very weak and in a haze.

He still didn't respond, so Harry repeated again. "Are you in, Dean? We need you. You are part of this team, but we need you at your best, at maximum strength." Harry gave a not-so-subtle nod to Dean's food. "It will only make you stronger."

"I'm on it," Dean took a small bite of his food and looked at Harry. "Thank you."

Harry smiled. "We will make it out of here. And if all else fails…" Harry trailed off.

"Run for your goddamn life," everyone concluded simultaneously.

Harry grinned and nodded his head.

At the end of Harry's plan, there was a moment of quiet as everyone took in the steps and their jobs.

"I don't think I can do this," Neville stated. It was his turn to look sickly weak and nauseous.

"Don't be down on yourself, Neville. All of us tend to be highly critical of ourselves, more than necessary. Everyone does this unless you're a highly confident psychopath," Harry said, as Draco raised his hand. "Yes, exactly, Draco, that's you."

Draco rolled his eyes while Ron and George both chuckled.

"I was just going to say, Schlongbottom. If you want out, I would suggest you leave now." Draco sneered.

"Ignore him," Harry advised Neville. "Trust me. It's what we all do."

"Is this going to work, Harry?" Neville questioned weakly. "Are we actually going to make it?"

"Yeah, Schlongbottom," Draco snarked, "and then we'll all find our true loves, ride off on a sparkly unicorn, and we'll all get our happily ever afters."

"If you really don't believe in my plan, why are you even here?" Harry asked angrily.

Draco shrugged. "I told you, I have nothing better to do. It's boring here."

Harry clenched his jaw and resisted rolling his eyes. "I'll see you all soon."

They all said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. Harry stood there with Ron and Hermione by his side.

"Neville's right, Harry," Hermione said, turning to look at Harry. "Is this really going to work?"

"If anyone can do it, Harry can," Ron said confidently.

"I don't doubt that, I'm just saying—"

"Guys," Harry stressed, rubbing his scarred head. "Stop arguing."

"Sorry, Harry," they both echoed, one after the other.

"We better head home anyway," Ron said.

"We'll see you soon, Harry," Hermione promised before the two of them left.

When it was just Harry alone in his room, he wondered about Draco's sarcastic words. It had a bit of truth in it.

Would they get the happily ever after they deserved?

True loves and sparkly unicorns aside, Harry just wanted to live in peace.

No Riddle. No Dumbledore. No pills. No group therapy. No moth ball hallways. No isolation rooms.

No Hogwarts.

He didn't want Hogwarts anymore.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, he never thought he would ever feel like that.

What's the point of life, of living, if there was no happily ever after out there?

Life wasn't a fairytale. Harry knew that.

Even in his fantasy, good people died and evil people lived. But, he had to believe that there was some happiness out there for him. He found that in his other world. He found that happiness in Ron and Hermione. In the Weasleys. In quidditch. In butterbeer. In magic. In Ginny…

Harry tried to shake the depressing thoughts from his head. All of that happiness was in the past. It was all gone and Ginny didn't love him and Harry had to assume she never had.

If they got out, they had a chance at that supposed happily ever after from the fairytales, but here… here, the only thing for them was a happily ever never.

And that just wasn't good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote in a couple of "A Very Potter Musical" references if you didn't catch them. Let me know if you did! (Hint: one has to do with Cedric and the other has to do with Neville). Happy finding! (Oo, that was another hint!)


	5. Broken World

Tensions ran high the next few days as the patients (not so patiently) prepared for their great escape.

The first step, and possibly the most important of all, was to not take the medication that was given to them three times a day every day. It was imperative that the patients avoided taking the mind numbing pills and so far, the group of teenagers had done a good job of avoiding taking the drugs.

The nurses didn't suspect a thing, or maybe they did, and they just didn't care. Either way, it worked to the benefit of the group. Harry felt his mind getting clearer and clearer every day as he pretended to swallow the medicine and spit it out as soon as the nurse left.

He could sense the others felt the same clear-headedness, but reminded them to act like how they used to before so no one would suspect anything. Drowsy. Unable to focus. Sad and delusional.

The hardest staff member to fool was Nurse McGonagall but Harry managed to fool her too. Or again, she just didn't care enough. The old McGonagall was as sharp as a tack and cared for Harry. The new McGonagall just viewed Harry as a patient, someone she had to take care of as required by her job description. She probably would not care if he lived or died.

Every time Harry was handed the medicine, he would put the pills in his mouth, smooshing them all to the side of his cheek like a chipmunk, and then drink the water with an exaggerated gulp. The nurse in charge would mumble something inaudible, scan his wrist band to check in that Harry did in fact take his medicine, and then leave without another single glance.

As soon as the nurse would leave, Harry would run to the bathroom sink and spit all the bitter, chalky cylinders out, making sure to wash his mouth clean so absolutely none of the drug would make its way into his system.

When Harry felt the medicine completely leave his system, leaving his mind and heart stronger, he knew it was time to initiate step two: getting the materials for the escape.

The team had divided the responsibilities based on accessibility.

Cedric was the only "free" person, so he had the biggest responsibility. He was the one who could actually transport them away once they would get out. So he was in charge of their ride. Since everyone at the Hogwarts Mental Institution loved him, from the patients to the staff, no one would suspect a thing. After all, Cedric was their golden boy.

Ron suggested using his dad's car to escape. Yes, the same one that Harry and Ron used to fly to Hogwarts, but Cedric immediately shot down the idea by saying that his minivan had more seats, eight to be exact, so it would be the perfect number of seats for the team.

Harry had to remind him that not everyone would have a seat so they would have to squish in the back, which Cedric agreed to after much confusion. So, Cedric and Cho were in charge of making sure that the path to the van would be clear and the vehicle was set to accelerate away at the signal.

They planned their transportation after their escape, but they still needed a huge distraction so that the patients could disappear before they could get caught.

This was where good old Gred and Forge came into play. George Weasley was a master prankster which happened to make him the ultimate thief and sneak. He had the job of breaking into the janitor's closet and stealing the necessary materials that would be pertinent for step three.

So George was in charge of gathering materials, and Harry had no doubt in his mind that George was capable of doing just that. After all, George Weasley was one half of the twin that snuck into Filch's sacred drawer and stole the Marauder's Map.

So after they stopped the medication and gathered the materials, it was time to proceed to step three…ah, step three. Now this was where things would take a turn for the crazy. Hogwarts Mental Institution crazy to be exact.

Step three began on the day of the grand escape. Everything before that was simply for preparation. If the other days were stressful, the tension on escape day was almost palpable. The threat of being caught, of making a mistake and jeopardizing the plan…the thought hung over the team's head like a thick, murky fog.

The next part had to come almost immediately after George stole the supplies, because if janitor Filch discovered what went missing, the Institution would be on lock down in a second.

The group had discreetly met at their usual table. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just a couple of mental institution patients sitting at a table chatting about mental institution… stuff. Nope, nothing suspicious about it at all.

Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, Harry turned to Dean, "Are you ready?" he asked him, his bright green eyes piercing into Dean's chocolate brown.

Dean let out a huff of breath. "Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

Harry nodded and turned to the next person. "Neville?"

"I can do this," Neville whispered to himself.

Harry patted Neville on the back, and this time, Neville did not flinch. While the medication that was given to them was supposed to help ease anxiety, it seemed that Neville was less anxious without them. Or maybe he was just getting better at hiding it. Harry liked to think it was the former.

"Step three everyone," Harry confirmed.

"Step three," Draco echoed, not having any sarcasm or retorts on the back of his hand. Everyone, even Draco Malfoy himself, was scared for the future.

Excited, of course. But also deeply terrified. If the plan worked, they were terrified of the future. If the plan didn't work…well, there would be pretty severe consequences to say the least.

Harry was no stranger to the feeling of being terrified. He just tried not to show it as much. Part of the Gryffindor charm, he supposed.

Neville stood and broke off from the group, ready to do his part in the plan: distract Nurse Sprout, the nurse on duty, and Hagrid, the always on-call Keeper of the Keys.

Neville walked to the two adults, albeit a bit shaky, but it did not seem out of the ordinary since Neville usually walked with such a gait (anxious and flinchy, that is).

He began talking to Sprout and Hagrid, and while Harry could not hear anything from that distance, he assumed it had something to do with plants or animals or wildlife, because both Sprout and Hagrid looked interested in what Neville had to say. Their talking became quite animated as the two adults looked immersed in what Neville had to say.

Once they were completely distracted, Harry turned to Draco, "Are you sure the next part will work?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "I've been here way longer than you, I am positive that the people here will react exactly how I know they will. Contrary to popular belief, mental patients are actually quite predictable. And on top of that, I am the most brilliant person in this group and seeing as I came up with this part of the plan I think—"

"Alright, alright, I get it," Harry interrupted, effectively shutting Draco up, "Dean?"

Dean prepped himself by taking in a huge breath, dipping his hands in slimy mashed potato before announcing in a low and disguised voice, "FOOD FIIIIIIIGHT!"

He then proceeded to swing his arms and send the pureed white mess flying to a nearby table.

Harry was surprised by the reaction it received. Even before the potato landed on a first year's head, food started coming from all directions. Everywhere.

It was beautiful.

Pieces of corn, of turkey, of chocolate cake. A glorious mashup of dinner flew every which way.

Screams of laughter, of anger, of fright. Absolutely marvelous.

Huh, perhaps Draco Malfoy was right after all.

Absolute and utter chaos: the perfect moment to sneak away without anyone noticing.

Sadly, Harry and the rest of the gang didn't have time to see the fight grow to its full capacity because the food fight was merely a distraction to escape dinner without being seen. Draco attempted to fling a whole plate on the face of an unsuspecting fourth year, but Harry grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him away to join the others.

While Neville had distracted the staff on duty, Dean started the fight (no one would suspect Dean, of all people) and now that Hagrid and Sprout moved away from Neville to quell the fighting, it gave the team the perfect opportunity to commence their escape.

More and more staff rushed towards the dining hall as Harry, Neville, George, Dean, and Draco ran in the opposite direction. Towards their freedom.

Where was Seamus in all of this?

The answer laid in the next…explosion.

While the food fight took place on the north side of the Institution, there needed to be a distraction on the south side.

Seamus said he had that side covered. He just needed one thing, the item George had stolen from Filch: matches.

Harry remembered the conversation that took place the day the planned the escape:

" _You just need a single match? You can create an explosion with just one match?" Harry had asked him._

" _Well, yeah. That and other things which I already have. Trust me on this. I'm a diagnosed pyromaniac," Seamus grinned, his fingers tapping together in the excitement of seeing fire once again._

" _Should I really trust you?" Harry questioned, cautiously scratching the back of his head. If Seamus was truly a diagnosed pyromaniac, maybe giving him exactly what he wanted wasn't the best path to follow._

" _No, probably not," Seamus answered honestly._

" _I think we can trust Seamus," Ron commented as Hermione nodded beside him._

_Harry closed his eyes, contemplating his options before coming to a decision. "George, can you get your hands on some matches?"_

" _Already on it. I know my way around Filch's closet like I know my own twin brother," George replied._

" _Then let's give them hell, Seamus," Harry concluded._

_Seamus grinned. "Hell is just fire, after all."_

The sound of the explosion, timed perfectly with the food fight, left the rag-tag bunch in shock.

"Holy shit," Draco commented, "he wasn't lying about giving them hell."

"Sure looks like hell to me," Dean replied, looking out the window to see smoke rising from the other side of the building.

Neville wrung his fingers together, "I hope nobody got hurt."

"I made sure to tell him to pick an area without any people. Plus, that would have given him more time to get away," Harry assured Neville.

Now, staff members were thrown into utter chaos. First, they were all brought to one side of the building by a food fight. The next second, a fire on the opposite side left them in confusion as they wondered what to do next.

The alarms rang and sprinklers went off, and out of that chaotic pandemonium came part five of their crazy plan.

"The fire is only going to get worse until the fire department gets here," Harry said with haste, "We have to get out of here and fast before they come."

While the medical staff hastened to get the other patients out of the building in as much of an orderly way as possible, Harry and his friends ran towards the staff's breakroom.

The room with the bathroom nobody was allowed to use.

The only bathroom with a window.

Cedric had told them about this bathroom. "The Chamber of Secrets," he called it (of course), because it was where the staff huddled and gossiped about their patients. It was their only free space away from the crazy children roaming the halls.

The break room was a long way away and so the gang ran. They ran as fast and as far as their feet could take them.

Until they ran into the person Harry wanted to see least of all. Doctor Dumbledore.

Dumbledore did not seem all too surprised to see the group of teenagers.

It looked like he was on the way to the north side (away from the fire) and was stopping by each room to see if there were any stray patients he needed to help.

He looked Harry and his friends over, up and down, and came to a sort of resigned conclusion.

"So you caused all of this, Harry?" Dumbledore asked with a kind of quiet anger (or was it sadness?)... Harry's mind was to jumbled to tell how his old mentor was feeling, but he doubted he ever knew.

"I'm sorry, professor," Harry panted loudly, as he recovered from his sprint across the institution, and looked at Dumbledore with remorse. "I don't want to fight you."

"I thought you were getting better, Harry," Dumbledore voiced tiredly.

"I am, sir."

"You are not well, Harry." Dumbledore looked at the rest of the team. "None of you are, please come with me, we'll get you out of the fire and we'll get you the help you need."

"The help we need is not from here, _Doctor_ ," Dean seethed.

"We can do better. We will help. Harry, please we can help you get better."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man he once trusted enough to give up his own life.

He was not going to sacrifice himself for him or his cause anymore. "I am well enough to know that I don't want to be here. I also know you well enough to know you are just stalling because you have a greater plan. You are just waiting for the police and firefighters, are you not?"

"They are on their way as we speak."

"They won't get here fast enough," George retorted.

"Are you going to get out of our way? It's you against all of us," Draco joked despite the tense environment that surrounded him. "Dumbledore versus our army."

Harry tried to clear his dry throat. "We don't want to fight you, but we need you to get out of the way."

"You won't get far," Dumbledore warned as the group ran past him leaving just Harry alone with the professor-turned-doctor.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, sir." With that, Harry ran with the others towards the Chamber of Secrets bathroom.

He knew Dumbledore would not follow them because Dumbledore was always one to put the greater good first, and in this situation, it meant saving the other patients from the burning building.

When they finally reached the bathroom, the group could feel the heat from the nearby fire radiating on their skin.

Harry and the food fight group were joined by Cho, Seamus, Ron, and Hermione who were all sweating profusely.

"Took ya long enough!" Seamus all but shouted. "You know, usually when I start fires, I don't stay inside the building!"

"Yeah!" Ron agreed. "What took you so long?"

Hermione simply slapped Ron's arm and rolled her eyes. "I'm sure Harry has his reasons."

"It's not our fault Potter has some weird connection with the freaking head doctor of this nuthouse," Draco muttered.

"We ran into Dumbledore, sorry," Harry apologized, explaining Draco's lingo.

"While you were on your way," Cho explained, "we managed to break the window open so we just need to push ourselves out of here and Cedric is on the other side with the van."

Harry wiped the sweat of his brow and half-smiled; aside from the Dumbledore snag, everything seemed to be going perfectly according to plan. "Let's get out then."

Seamus and George were the tallest, so they were the base and had the people step on their hands to be lifted to the window and to the outside. The first one out was Draco Malfoy.

Harry watched with curiosity as Draco pushed the others out of the way to be the first one out. He wondered to himself why Draco was even with them in the first place, he had no value to the team. Draco…well, they didn't really need Draco 'I'm better than all of you' Malfoy.

Perhaps he was just moral support? _Right, like Draco could be moral or supportive._

Once Draco was on the outside, away from the staff and other patients who were exiting the building under strict watch of the staff, Cho was the next one out. Then Neville. Then Dean.

"Maybe let Hermione go next?" Harry suggested, as he watched the frizzy haired girl get even frizzier in the heat of the fire.

Seamus and George looked at each other before Seamus shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, all right then."

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione sent a grateful look his way before she was out, followed by Ron who went after her.

"You go next, Harry," George said.

"No, you two go." Harry shook his head. "I'll be the last one out."

So, he helped the two of them escape and when it was finally just him. Looking around, Harry grabbed the nearest thing that looked like a stick of some sort so he could use it for defense once he was in the outside world.

Harry bit his lower lip and in his other hand, he clutched the wand medallion that was given to him by his father. His good luck charm.

"Wingardium leviosa," Harry whispered to himself and then with unfounded determination, stood on the toilet seat before taking a giant leap to the window and hung there by the ledge.

Using all the strength he had within him, Harry pulled himself up and out of the window, falling down and landing as an ungraceful heap on the rough, muddy grass.

Getting up and dusting himself off as best he could, Harry looked at his team as they looked back at him, waiting for their next order.

"Is that..." Dean, however, looked at him in confusion. "Is that a broomstick?"

Harry looked at the stick he had grabbed and realized it was in fact a broomstick that had a similar design to his very own Firebolt.

He waved the broomstick around in the air a couple of times. "It's my weapon of self-defense. In case anything happens," he explained, "Anyway, is everybody here?"

"We're missing some people." Draco said.

Harry looked around and counted nine heads, which was exactly the number it should be excluding Cedric who was waiting in the van. "No, we're not."

Draco shrugged. "I was just trying to be hopeful."

Harry ignored Draco. "Cho, where's Cedric?"

"He's a little walk away, parked in the Forbidden Forest, so he wouldn't be caught."

Harry nodded. "Okay, let's go. And be very quiet. If you see any of the medical staff or police… hide, I suppose?"

"Great, let's go," Draco answered impatiently. He started walking in the direction of the forest before realizing he had no idea which way to go and then awkwardly waited for Cho to take the lead.

Harry decided to walk in the back of the group, so he could watch out for any danger that could be behind them, while Cho took the front.

They began their trek into the forest, deemed forbidden by the staff because…let's just say mental institution patients and the wild forest don't really mix.

Neville started scratching his arms furiously believing there were tiny insects crawling up his body and Seamus started playing with the matches that he had used to set the Institution on fire.

"You're fine, Neville," Harry assured the nervous boy. "And Seamus, stop playing with the matches while we're in a forest filled with very flammable wood."

"Sorry, Harry," Seamus muttered.

Harry used his Firebolt broomstick to beat any stray sticks and branches out of his way, just so he could keep his mind busy and away from any negative thoughts. However, it didn't really help and he could feel his mind drifting and he began to start thinking about the group's future once they got out of Hogwarts. Seamus was diagnosed as a pyromaniac. That meant he literally found joy in setting things on fire. Being locked up in Hogwarts didn't really help him get better and treat his obsession, but setting him free in the real world did not really seem like a better option. Seamus would probably end up in an even worse situation than now, possibly even in prison.

Harry continued questioning all the decisions he had made that led him to this moment and began regretting his choices when he felt the presence of Ron and Hermione, one on either side of him.

He looked at his friends with a grateful heart. "Alright there, Ron?"

Ron smiled. "Alright. You?"

Harry shrugged, but smiled nonetheless. "Alright. Hermione?"

Hermione smiled at the boy's antics remembering the same conversation that they had as young, naive eleven year olds. "Never better. We are so proud of you, Harry," she said softly as they continued to trudge through the forest.

Harry smiled, feeling the doubt wash away. "Really?"

"Yes, Harry. You are a great leader," Ron answered, "You gave these people hope. You actually managed to get them together with a plan, that somehow actually worked, and now we are getting out of here."

"What if getting them out wasn't the best idea?" Harry asked, scratching the back of his head.

"I don't know the future, Harry," Hermione replied, "But I do know that you made the right decision getting yourself and the others out of here because being here at Hogwarts is only going to make them worse, not better. And in the outside world, at least they have a chance at a better life."

"A happily ever after," Ron added.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Harry smiled softly.

"Of course I'm right," Hermione joked, "After all, I am the brightest witch of my age."

Harry chuckled in agreement. "That you are."

"Who are you talking to, Harry?" George asked from the front of the group.

"I think I hear something," Neville said in fright.

"No, that's just Harry," Dean insisted while Cho announced simultaneously, "We're almost to the van. Just a couple of steps away."

"I don't think so, I heard something too," Seamus commented, a slight waver to his voice, "From the bushes. Someone's there. I know it."

The group was a good distance away from the Hogwarts Mental Institution that nobody would hear them, see them, or even be in that area.

But not taking any risks, Harry called out, "Who's there?"

They waited a few seconds, and just when the group thought that that they were in the clear, the bushes rustled once more and from behind the large plant emerged none other than Doctor Riddle himself.

Now, Harry thought that Doctor Dumbledore was the person he wanted to see least, he was not expecting to see Doctor Riddle at all. Especially this far into their trek into the Forest.

They were almost to Cedric's van, for Merlin's sake!

The team took steps back in terror, watching the Doctor emerge fully out of hiding.

"So were you just hiding in the Forbidden Forest waiting for us?" Harry asked sarcastically, although his heart beat faster and faster at the sight of Riddle.

"Don't be so arrogant, the world does not revolve around you, Mr. Potter." Riddle smirked arrogantly in a way that might have been considered handsome if there wasn't an evil glint in his eye. "You aren't the only one with a car stashed away in the Forbidden Forest for quick escape."

"You're just going to leave the patients here? You're not even going to try and save them?" Harry fired out angrily. "Some Doctor you are."

"I save people that deserved to be saved, Mr. Potter. And frankly, I've wasted my time here at Hogwarts. All these children. Totally diseased and worthless. Ungrateful little heathens with nothing but dirty blood running through your veins."

"That's not true!" Neville shouted back, in a defiant act of bravery. "If you actually took the time to care for us, then maybe we would actually do better. You just care about your own personal gains. You have no love in your heart. No sympathy. You are the monster, not us."

"I couldn't save you freaks if I wanted to," Riddle barked. "You are all past saving. Even if you do get out of here, which you most definitely won't, you'll all end up on the streets or in prison," Riddle laughed maniacally, "Poor broken children in a poor broken world."

"It's a broken world because people like you make it so." Harry's hand shook, in fear or anger he didn't know, and he clenched tightly to his broomstick. "But frankly, at this point, we don't really care about you or any of your opinions, _Doctor_. Now, if you don't mind letting us go, we'll leave you on your way."

Riddle scoffed. "You think I am actually going to let you get away and escape? How stupid do you think I am?"

"There are more of us than you, I think we could take you," Ron piped up.

"Exactly," Harry confirmed with a firm nod.

Riddle tilted his head to the side in confusion and pursed his lips, "What exactly?"

"There are more of us than you, you can't take on all of us," Harry repeated with fervor.

Just a few steps away was their freedom. Harry wanted to tell the others to run away and get to the van, but before he had the chance, something even worse happened. When had Harry's plans ever worked out accordingly?

With a small laugh, Riddle reached into his back pocket and pulled out a gun. Immediately, Harry moved to a defensive position, trying to shield the others from the barrel of the gun.

"And who told you that, Mr. Potter?" Riddle said with mocking sincerity. "The voices in your head? I'm surrounded by you crazy psychos every day of my life, you think I don't have a gun to defend myself?"

"Seamus, Neville," Harry said slowly and softly to his team behind him, while keeping his eyes focused on the movement of the silver weapon, "take everyone to the van. Get out of here now."

"We are not going to leave you, Harry," Seamus said, his voice shaking greatly. The others in the group stood their ground, even Draco stayed although his feet kept shifting, deciding whether to stay or run.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, "We will stand by you no matter what."

"Oh, they are not going anywhere, Harry," Riddle announced over Hermione, still pointing the gun straight at the group.

"Please," Harry begged, arms outstretched to cover the group. "Let them go and just kill me. Let. Them. Go."

Slowly but surely, Riddle made his way towards Harry and put the tip of the gun right under Harry's jaw.

Harry clenched his jaw tightly, feeling the gun coolly pressed against his skin.

"Harry," Hermione whispered fearfully, tears beginning to form on her face. Ron held her tightly, his face as pale as a ghost.

Harry swallowed and let out a choked breath. "It's alright, Hermione. It's alright."

"Hermione? And is Ron there too?" Riddle said in a shocked voice. "Still? I can't believe it."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry asked, still feeling the gun against his throat pushing deeper and deeper into his skin.

"Your besties? Who are always with you whenever you need them most? Don't you find it a little strange that they just, I don't know, show up out of nowhere, Harry?" Riddle leered, taunting Harry with every word that came out of his mouth.

"I don't—" when Harry swallowed roughly, he could still feel the gun's cold body move with him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Harry, don't listen to him," Ron shouted.

Harry turned his head slightly towards his voice, although he kept his eyes focused on Riddle. Riddle noticing his slight change in attention commented, "They're here with you right now, aren't they? Standing with your other pals?"

"What?" Harry croaked, his throat turning completely dry, a haunting feeling settling upon him.

"Ron and Hermione, they're here aren't they?"

"Yes, of course. They're right there. Everyone can see them!"

"Can they though, Mr. Potter?" Riddle mocked.

He grabbed Harry by the arm and turned him around so Harry was facing his friends while Riddle moved the gun to the side of Harry's head.

The group skittered nervously as they watched the scene unfold in front of them.

"Harry's real buddies," Riddle addressed the group, "can you see this Ron and Hermione that Harry keeps talking to? Now tell the truth, little children."

Harry looked at each of them with imploring eyes before settling on Draco. Draco wasn't afraid of telling Harry the truth. Draco was honest to him from the start, being his guide through the whole experience. Draco would have told him about Ron and Hermione. Harry was sure of it.

"Malfoy?" Harry questioned. "What the hell is he talking about?"

Draco refused to look him in the eyes, rather he decided to focus on the ground. A guilty look crossed his face. Harry felt betrayal hit him like a ton of bricks. Like he ran face first into wall at Platform 9 ¾.

"Neville? Dean? George?" Harry begged, searching for answers. Answers from anyone.

"Harry…" Cho said quietly, but even she was at a loss for words.

"Please," Harry pleaded to his friends, "Please tell me something."

"Don't. You. Get. It?" Riddle tapped the gun against the side of Harry's head at every word, the pulsing in Harry's head echoing from every hit. "They're not real! Ron and Hermione are just figments of your messed up imagination because you don't actually have any real friends."

"No, that's not…it can't be," Harry trembled.

"But it is. Where are your Ron and Hermione now?" Riddle pressed the gun deeper into Harry's skull. "Where are they now?"

Harry looked straight at the bodies of Ron and Hermione who stood separate from the rest of the group.

He directed the question straight at them, not caring about the others' confused and pitied glances. "Are you real?"

" _We're real to you, Harry, and isn't that all that matters?"_ Both Ron and Hermione said in unison.

Harry felt a single tear run down his face. All the pieces began fitting themselves into place.

He remembered first asking Draco about Ron and Hermione:

" _What about Ron and Hermione?"_

" _What about them?" Draco had asked._

" _Well, first of all, where are they?"_

" _They come in and visit you once in a while…If you see them, tell them I said 'hi.'"_

Draco had simply been teasing him and playing with him. How could he have not realized that, Harry wondered to himself.

He remembered every time Harry tried to hug Ron or come near him:

" _Woah, mate." Ron would put both his hands up and back away. "We don't want your crazy juices all over us."_

Whenever Hermione had tried to comfort him, Harry now realized, he never actually felt her touch, he just felt the comfort in his soul.

He never physically touched Ron and Hermione. And Ron and Hermione never physically came in contact with him or anything at all.

When Slughorn or Dumbledore or anyone would come to his room, they would never acknowledge his two friends, they wouldn't even open the door for themselves, always waiting for someone else to come before sneaking out through the opening.

He remembered his scar hurting every time the frizzy haired brunette and freckled red-head would argue—like two sides of his mind competing for a sane thought:

" _Sorry, Harry," they would say in unison when they noticed his pain._

The headache would cease once they had stopped fighting.

He remembered the confusion Cedric, Dean, Seamus, Neville, the Weasley's, and pretty much everyone he had talked to had exhibited when Harry would mention Ron and Hermione:

" _So if your van can fit eight people then we would need to squeeze everyone in cause there wouldn't be enough seats," Harry had reasoned._

" _Why?" Cedric asked confused, he thought there would have been enough seats._

" _Well, it's me," Harry said, pointing to himself, "you, Cho, Fred or George, Seamus, Dean, Neville, Draco, and Ron and Hermione."_

" _Oh," Cedric said, awkwardly, not wanting to break Harry's fantasy and deal with the breakdown that would most likely follow, "right, we can fit them in too."_

Without Ron and Hermione, it would have been eight seats exactly. The perfect vessel to take them away. They did not need to squeeze anyone in.

Everyone had just been gently playing along with Harry's fantasies so as to not hurt his feelings: they included Ron and Hermione in the group, they pretended to lift Ron and Hermione out the window just like the others, they pretended to accept that any ideas that Harry had repeated originally came from the two fictional characters in his mind.

Everyone kept the secret from him, as if he was a small child in need of protection. No one ever told him the truth so as to not break him.

But he was already broken. Perhaps Riddle was right: he was just a poor broken child in a poor broken world.

Harry remembered Ron's excited proclamation after playing one game of chess after the other:

" _Ha!" Ron had shouted in delight. "You played yourself!_

Only now did Harry realize that Ron was telling him that he was quite literally playing the game by himself. He had played himself.

The best part of this nightmare was that he still had his two best friends in the whole world, and now that had to be taken away from him as well.

Completely ignoring the gun to his head, Harry dropped to the ground of the forest, his hands on his knees and his head facing down.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Harry felt his vision turning fuzzy at the sides.

"Harry! Harry!" the voices sounded muddled together, but with intense focus, Harry soon matched the voice to belong to Dean.

"Harry," Dean repeated, "We're still here. Please Harry."

"They're not real. They're not real. They're not real!" Harry put his hands up to his head and began rocking back and forth, "They were never real! Why are they still here? Go away! Go away!"

Ron and Hermione just stared at him with unreadable expressions, stoic almost. Like haunted ghosts. Like evil spirits.

"Harry!" George croaked. "We're real and we need you."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut really tight and wept, "No! No! No! I have nothing here for me, I have nothing!"

Riddle once again made himself known to Harry. "While this has been fun, I really should be on my way. So what would you prefer, Mr. Potter? Should I shoot you and then your friends? Or shoot your friends while you watch and then shoot you?" Riddle chuckled, "I think of myself as a very considerate individual, so I am open to whatever you choose."

Harry tried to slow his breathing and calmed his rocking as he took in the situation. Even though he stopped caring about his life the minute he realized he didn't have one, he couldn't let the others die because of his revelation. He got them this far, he was going to take them to the finish line.

His whole life he was named a hero, but he did not feel like much of a hero in his situation.

"Kill Malfoy first, I want to watch," Harry said with dark resolution, his green eyes turned dark.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Draco threw his hands up and widened his eyes in fear, as Riddle lifted his gun towards the golden haired boy.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. I didn't expect this from you, but I am pleasantly surprised," Riddle chortled.

Using the time that Riddle had raised the gun from Harry and was distracted, Harry swiftly picked up his Firebolt broomstick and swung it around to hit Riddle's legs causing the man to fall to the misty soil of the Forbidden Forest.

As the gun dropped from the reach of Riddle, Harry used the stick side of the Firebolt to knock Riddle out until he was passed out on the ground, some blood seeping from a cut on his forehead.

Getting up from the black dirt, Harry reached for the gun and aimed it at Riddle's head in case the man would wake up again. Although Riddle was knocked unconscious from Harry's tremendous blow to the head, he was still breathing.

The rest of the people in his group looked at him in shock. One minute ago, they were all at the mercy of a psychopath masquerading as a doctor, and now, Harry seemed like he had full control of the situation with Riddle lying asleep at his feet.

"Go to the van now," Harry asserted through gritted teeth. So many emotions were running through his head, but Harry could not focus on emotions right now. His team needed a leader and a leader he would be.

"Harry," Neville said cautiously, noticing Harry still had the gun pointed down to Riddle's head.

"Now!" Harry bellowed, his grip remained firmly on the gun, but he noticed how rapidly his hands shook and tried to still them to no avail.

Without another thought, the people in his team ran for the van, knowing better than to talk sense into a schizophrenic with a gun. Because that was all he was now.

He was alone with Riddle deep in the forest, the fire from the Hogwarts Mental Institution and the wailing sirens only droning noise in the background.

Harry's hands wavered even more as he held the heavy gun in his hands. The gun became heavier and heavier with its physical weight and also the dawning emotional and psychological weight of the decision he would have to make next.

One shot and Doctor Tom Marvolo Riddle would be dead. For good.

One pull of the trigger and Harry would never have to worry about this man ever again. The man who had ruined his life not only in this world, but his fantasy world as well.

Neither realities needed this man. This monster.

Riddle had created the broken and world and maybe killing him would be the first step in putting the pieces back together.

His soul was already broken, what's a little more damage going to do anyway?

Harry had never used the Avada Kedavra spell in the wizarding world, but he assumed the killing curse would be equal to shooting someone in the head. The end result would ultimately be the same.

"Don't do this, Harry," Hermione, his voice of reason, said.

Harry kept his focus on Riddle, not even looking at where the voice was coming from. It was all in his messed up head anyway.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked Hermione. "You're just in my head. You are me. Why shouldn't I kill him? He ruined my life. He killed my parents in that car crash and he got away from it scotch free. He doesn't deserve to live while innocent people died!" Harry trembled.

"If you kill him," Ron heeded, "Voldemort is just taking away another innocent's life— yours. Don't let him take away your innocence."

Harry finally looked away from Riddle's passed out body and onto Ron and Hermione, both looking as real as ever. "Don't you see?" Harry said pitifully. "He already has."

But it was his own mind convincing him not to shoot, so Harry, in all his anger, knew what the right thing to do was.

Standing up, Harry wiped away the last remaining tear stains on his face, although that did nothing to hide the deep red rim around his eyes, and threw the gun as far away into the wilderness as he could before running to join the others in the van.

When Harry finally reached the vehicle, he noticed that everyone had left the seat in the front open for him because they still considered him their leader.

It didn't matter to them that Harry had a mental breakdown because they had all been there. Knowing the troubles Harry had endured in his mind only made them respect him more.

They were still his team.

As he sat in the front passenger seat, he was hit with the distinct smell of old, crusty feet. It reminded him of the smell of the old boot that Cedric had used as a portkey when they travelled to the Quidditch World Cup in the summer of his fourth year.

Not saying a word, Cedric started the engine of the car and began warming it up.

Looking out the window, Harry was met with the faces of Ron and Hermione gazing at him.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Ron asked.

_Yes, I do_ , Harry wanted to say, _With all my heart, yes._

But he couldn't. Leaving the Hogwarts Mental Institution meant leaving everything he once knew behind to start a new life. A life that didn't involve magic and adventure and…Ron and Hermione. A normal life.

So Harry stared at them with regret and longing, but shook his head 'no.'

Hermione looked at him for a second and smiled. "We understand, Harry. We'll miss you."

Harry smiled softly, indulging his fantasies one last time. "I'll miss you too."

If anyone in the van heard Harry, they didn't say anything.

As the van started to move out of the forest and onto the main road, Harry looked back at the rearview mirror to see the bodies of Ron and Hermione against the backdrop of the fiery Mental Institution that was finally being sprayed down by firefighters.

In all the chaos, he watched his two best friends, his fake crazy hallucinations, waving at him synchronously. Their bodies got smaller and smaller until they were nothing, just as they always were and just as they always will be.

Harry felt sick to his stomach, and it wasn't just from Cedric's crazy driving.

He watched as the institution burned and said his first words to his team since he got on the van, "Everything. Everything is gone."

"Hey, at least we haven't lost our minds," George joked.

Harry looked at the clothes hanging off his body and laughed. Itchy blue pants, a cotton white shirt, and a bracelet with his diagnosed mental disorder. Crazy people garb.

Harry laughed and laughed and laughed. He laughed until he couldn't sit up straight anymore. Doubling over in his seat, he imagined the flames consuming the Hogwarts Mental Institution, one lick at a time.

The others had joined him this time. Whether from true happiness or relief or desperation, they all laughed with him. Hysterical and free.

Harry laughed, choking bellows, until he could taste blood. Until tears ran down his face once more, blurring the tragic scene that lay in ravage destruction behind him.

_Maybe I am crazy,_ Harry thought to himself. _Maybe that's okay._

Besides, how was someone supposed to survive a broken world with a sane mind?

With that sad assurance in mind, Harry gazed forward in his seat at the world ahead. A world he didn't think was quite ready for this rag-tag group of crazies. But it was not like they were ready for the world ahead either.

After they had been driving for only a couple of minutes, Harry turned and looked at the back of the van to see George in between Seamus and Dean, all leaning against each other and fast asleep. Draco and Neville were both gazing out the window at the bright signs and tall buildings; it was their first time, in a long time, being out of the Institution and out in the real world and much had changed in society since they were last out and about in the muggle, or rather, normal, world. Cho was leaning forward in her seat and held hands with Cedric who had one hand on the steering wheel and one hand comforting the girl with soft strokes of his thumb on her hand.

Everything seemed quiet and restful. Everything seemed like it was finally going according to plan as Cedric drove them to a discreet motel where they would be out of site from any police who were sent to find them.

Then, out of nowhere, he heard:

" _Harry." "Harry." "Harry." "Harry!"_

Just his name being repeated over and over. By Ron. By Hermione. By Ginny for some reason. By so many people.

The voices echoed and bounced around in his head causing Harry to wince and use his hands to close his ears to try and prevent the noise.

"Are they—" Cedric contemplated his next words, looking at Harry with concern. "Are they still with you?"

Harry nodded. "Just their voices now."

Cedric scratched the back of his head. "That's better than seeing them _and_ hearing them, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose. Their voices. It… feels different now and I don't know why."

"We'll get through this," Cedric confirmed. "We all will. We'll get you the help you need."

Harry didn't say anything, but shared a small smile with Cedric, confirming the idea that everything was going to be okay.

Harry didn't mention the fact that instead of the voices getting quieter, they were getting louder and louder.

" _Harry." "Harry." "Harry." "Harry!"_

"That's strange," Cedric said, scrunching his eyes together as he squinted at his rear-view mirror.

"What is?" Harry asked, ignoring the voices as he looked backwards at the car behind him.

A strange feeling of dread settled on him as he recognized the model of the car.

"It's getting really close. Like scary close. And when I accelerate, the car just accelerates behind me."

"That's just what aggressive drivers do," George reasoned as he was awakened from his quick nap. "Just get into the next lane and let the car pass."

So Cedric followed the red-head's advice, but to their surprise, the car followed them.

"That isn't just any car," Harry breathed. "That's… that's Riddle's car."

"Doctor Riddle?" Seamus questioned as he became more and more panicked. "But he was passed out. Knocked unconscious! You had a gun to his head, Harry! How is he still here, Harry? We thought you killed him!"

"I didn't— I couldn't kill him."

"Now he's going to kill us," Dean seethed. "You should have killed him, Harry."

The car came closer and closer.

"Cedric," Harry commanded. "Drive as fast as you can."

"I'm trying." Cedric gritted his teeth as his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"We're going to die," Neville mumbled on repeat. "We are going to die."

"I'm going to die surrounded by idiots," Draco lamented.

_I should have killed him_ , Harry repeated that thought to himself.

" _Harry." "Harry." "Harry." "Harry!"_ The voices in his head cried out.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Harry yelled.

But that did nothing to silence the voices in his head nor the screaming that was going on in the van itself.

" _Harry." "Harry." "Harry." "Harry!"_

"He's going to hit us!" Cedric yelled and right as he said it… BOOM!

A flash of green hit Harry's eyes.

Riddle's car slammed into the back of Cedric's van pushing the vehicle into the guardrail. The people in the back seat were hit the most and Harry could already smell the blood. The screams must have gotten stuck in their throats, because Harry could not hear them anymore. Or maybe Harry was too distracted by the ringing of his own ears to notice.

As the van spun around, the vehicle was hit with another BOOM as the car hit the driver's side of the van this time, effectively knocking out the other half of the passengers, including Cedric, who no longer gripped the steering wheel, but fell limp against the airbag that had deployed.

A flash of red hit Harry's eyes.

A chilling thought came over Harry as he realized, this was how his parents died as well. Drunk or not, Riddle wanted Harry to die the same way his mum and dad did.

The van tilted over and began to skid upside down off the other side of the road before coming to a screeching halt and a great thud.

Blinding colors of red and green overcame his vision and as he reached a hand slowly to his head and pulled back, Harry saw the bright red tinge of blood.

There was nothing but the sound of the van creaking from the damage. No whimpers of pain, no vicious cursing, no nothing.

Broken people still had a voice. Dead people did not.

His glasses had flown off somewhere in the crash, but Harry knew that even without his glasses, nobody in the car was moving. Nobody in the car was ever going to move again. Held in place by his seat-belt, Harry was stuck in a coffin with seven dead bodies surrounding him.

" _Harry." "Harry." "Harry." "Harry!"_

Those voices again. Ron. Hermione. Ginny. Molly Weasley? Hagrid? Fleur? McGonagall?

"Leave me..." Harry coughed up blood and begged with horrid desperation. "Please, please, leave me alone."

He was so tired. He could not take the voices anymore.

He was going to die here with the rest of his friends.

He wanted to die here with the rest of his friends.

He had gotten them this far, but he didn't have the courage or the strength or the bravery to kill Voldemort, and now everyone had to pay the price for his mistake.

He was not the hero they wanted. He was not the Boy Who Lived. He was nothing. He was no one.

Harry had a large bruise on the side of his face and all over his body. He could feel his eyes swelling up and the blood still pouring out of his body, mixing with the blood from the rest of his friends.

Why couldn't he have gotten a quick death like the rest of them?

The Boy Who Lived about to die.

Harry chuckled to himself at the self-deprecating irony, _I am about to die._

He heard the crunching of glass under someone's shoes and knew it was death calling for him. Tom Riddle had finally accomplished his mission.

Harry suddenly felt Riddle's pale, cold hands close around his throat and pull him out of the car.

Meeting face to face with Riddle once more, Harry could see the bruise on the side of Riddle's face from when Harry slammed a broomstick across his head. His nose seemed squashed in and broken from the Firebolt causing a deeper resemblance to the Voldemort Harry once knew.

"We meet again, Mr. Potter," Riddle drawled, his hand closing tighter and tighter around Harry's throat, cutting off his air supply.

Harry did not say anything, but glared at Riddle the best way he could with two swollen eyes. Harry felt a steady stream of blood come out from the side of his mouth.

He had defied death long enough. _Why wouldn't he die yet? Why couldn't he just die?_

Riddle smiled wickedly. "You once told me that you lived because you had something worth living for. Tell me, Harry Potter, what do you have worth living for now?"

_Nothing_ , Harry wanted to say as he gasped for oxygen. _I have nothing worth living for._

The only thing that kept him going was being surrounded by loved ones. First, he lost Dumbledore and his other professors. Then, Ginny. And worst of all, Ron and Hermione. Now, he was surrounded by the dead bodies of his peers. His friends who he had killed because they had trusted him as a leader and he let them down.

He was a broken child, trapped in a broken world, with absolutely nothing worth living for.

" _Harry." "Harry." "Harry." "Harry!"_

The hand around his throat closed completely, cutting off Harry's breath, until the broken world dimmed to absolute darkness.

Harry shut his eyes for the last time, dreaming of reuniting with his parents once more.

_I am about to die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe... so... thoughts? I'd love to know what you all think about this chapter!


	6. Welcome Home

"Harry."

The voice echoed in his ear like all the other times before. It was like he was underwater and the sound of his name came from above... from outside his realm... from heaven. _Was this death?_ It was nice.

"Harry."

It was clearer this time. It wasn't just a disconnected voice. He could smell something. Feel something. Suddenly, he wasn't sinking in the water. He was on dry land. He had joined the angels.

He could tell he was lying down. The itchy fabric under him moved harshly against his skin.

Itchy. Uncomfortable. Slowly, his senses came back to him. One by one.

Now, he could smell something. Sweet and sensual like a woman's perfume; the aroma overtook his senses and completely enveloped him.

He wanted to sink again. He wanted it to overcome him and takeover. He wanted to let go. He wanted to rest.

"Harry."

The smell belonged to the voice. The voice got clearer and more distinct. It was a beautiful voice, almost… angelic. It was as if she was singing his name, not really expecting an answer back. Just a mindless hum to push other thoughts away.

The voice touched his forehead and wiped away the hair covering his eyelids. He shivered under her touch.

"Did you—?" The voice seemed shock, immediately recoiling from Harry's movement. "Harry! Harry, can you hear me?"

He didn't want to answer. He didn't want to open his eyes. If this was death, he was fine with it. He was fine with the darkness and the sinking and the voice of a beautiful angel brushing his hair.

He was fine.

"Please. Please open your eyes for me."

_How could he say no to that voice?_

Struggling, Harry pushed with all his strength to try and open his eyes. He was awake, but his eyes refused to open.

"Harry, wake up!"

He tried to lift his fingers. He wanted to let the girl know he was trying. With great concentration, he managed to get his pinky to move. Jerkily, he moved it one centimeter.

But it was enough.

"Ron! Hermione!" the voice choked. "I think he's awake!"

Ron and Hermione? They were… they were… _here?_

And that was when sleep overtook him and he succumbed to the darkness once more.

If he was dead, maybe he could be with Ron and Hermione. Maybe they were real in death...

Harry groaned as he felt his body awaken. He felt so sore, like every joint and bone in his body had been trampled on by a Hungarian Horntail dragon and dragged across a Quidditch field.

"Oh, Merlin," a voice whispered. "I think he's finally conscious…"

This voice was different from the angel before, but it was nice all the same. Then suddenly the voice grew louder. "Ron! Wake up! I think Harry is finally awake! Ron!"

Harry flinched at the sound. Everything was so loud. The noise pounded in his ears. "So loud."

"Oh." The voice became quiet immediately. "I am so sorry, Harry. I'll be quieter."

_Did he say that out loud?_

"Ron!" the voice hissed, quieter but with the same heat. "Will you get up?"

"Where—" his voice sounded croaky, as if it hadn't been used in a long time. "Where. Am. I?"

"You're at St. Mungo's," the voice answered.

It dawned on Harry… he was back where he started. They just moved him from the children's institution to the adults'. He couldn't survive this. He couldn't be locked up again.

"No, I got out." Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "No, no, no."

"Harry, open your eyes and quit muttering. You're awake. You're alright. It's me. It's Hermione. And Ron is here too."

"I'm here, mate," came the comforting voice of his best friend.

"No." Harry refused to open his eyes. "You're not real."

Now, she got impatient. "Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry, just open your eyes. The rest of us have been worried for days. Ginny's on her way after taking a nap for the first time in—"

"Ginny?" Harry's eyes shot open and was immediately taken aback by the lighting. It was definitely a hospital, but it looked kinder than the last Institution he was at.

Harry shook his head and let his eyes adjust to his surroundings. He was surrounded by flowers of all different colors. A myriad of roses and tulips and beautiful lilies captured his eyes. There were get well cards scattered on the tables piling up on each other and a giant stuffed dragon doll sitting in the corner. Finally, his eyes settled on the outlines of his two best friends. His best friends… who weren't real.

He stared straight ahead and did not look at them. He did not want to be crazy. He just wanted them gone. He knew they weren't real. He was not going to talk to them.

In his peripheral vision, he could see the fake figments of his imagination look at each other wearily and then back at Harry.

"Harry." Hermione walked closer to his bed. "Are you alright?"

"Why are you back?" he croaked. "You told me you would leave me alone. I was going to get better. I left Hogwarts."

"We all left Hogwarts." Ron reminded him. "The war is over, we can go home."

Harry released a shaky breath and looked down. "What home? I have no home." He swallowed roughly, trying to forge on and forget the tragedy that was his life.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs and Harry could hear the complaints of the healers telling the crowd to slow down.

"Harry!" "Harry!" "Harry!" "Harry!"

He was met by a crowd of red-heads all with bright beaming smiles on their faces. The Weasley clan was led by the shocked and shaky Ginny Weasley who made her way in front of Ron and Hermione.

Her brown eyes studied Harry's green with disbelief and sadness. He stared back, remembering their last encounter.

_Why was she here?_

The Ginny at the Hogwarts Mental Institution, the one who came only to visit George, was terrified of him. She hated him. He was a freak.

But this Ginny's eyes did not reflect anything close to disgust. Her cold hands reached up and rested on both sides of his face.

The rest of the Weasley family and Hermione decided to give the couple some time and slowly walked out of the room, until it was just Harry and Ginny left.

Ginny continued to gaze at him, not saying a word. Harry did the same, afraid that if he said anything, she would get up and leave. He didn't want to scare her off again.

Her fingers on his face moved subtly, feeling the unevenly shaven skin on his cheek.

"It's been almost a week," she shuddered. "I knew you didn't like to have too much facial hair, so I tried my best. I got a few nicks here and there… sorry about that."

She kept using her thumbs to trace the shave of his skin, until she bent her head forward and let out a small, pitiful cry. Her forehead fell into the crook of his neck and he could feel her tears seep into his hospital gown.

Harry still did not say a word despite his confusion. All he knew was that his Ginny was in pain and she needed comfort.

Her crying got louder and louder and Harry could make out words like "week" (or "weak", Harry wasn't too sure), "cursed", and "love".

He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she immediately let both her arms go around his neck to pull him in closer.

"Never," she whispered in his ear, " _ever_ , leave me again."

Little by little her crying reduced and she relaxed against Harry's comforting body. The two of them lay there on the hospital bed, secure in each other's embrace.

Looking up from her spot on Harry's chest, Ginny smiled, a true and genuine smile, reached up and gave Harry a kiss. It was a short and simple kiss, but all the emotions of reunion and reassurance were there.

Despite its briefness, the aftermath of the kiss endured on as their mouths lingered a few inches from each other.

Harry closed his eyes, preparing to say his first words to the angel. "Am I dead?"

At this, Ginny jolted out of the bed and looked at him, completely appalled. "What?"

Harry's throat felt dry, so he remained silent, reaching for a cup of water beside his bed. The icy cold liquid felt good going down his throat and he tried to ignore the red-headed beauty staring him down.

It was a genuine question. He hoped he was dead. He didn't want to think it was the other option… that he had relapsed…

After all the work he had done to shed his past, only to be thrust back into his nightmarish fantasy world… No, he had to be dead. It was the only option.

"I'm getting Hermione," Ginny said, her voice sounding heartbroken.

It took less than a minute for his bushy haired imaginary best friend to be at his side. "How are you doing, Harry?"

Harry remained silent, staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the figment of his schizophrenic mind.

At his silence, Hermione continued, "Ginny… Ginny told me that you thought you were… well, you— you aren't dead, Harry. You survived."

Harry couldn't bear to look at her and remember everything he lost. He refused to go back.

"Please, Harry. Say something. Please," Hermione begged beside him. At one point, her hand grabbed his and Harry flinched at her touch.

_How could she touch him now when she never could before?_

"The accident," Hermione tried to explain, "The accident was— there was a Death Eater attack. Some remaining radicals tried their last attempt at continuing Voldemort's legacy and Ginny and… and you got caught in the crossfires and—"

Harry's eyes darkened as he fixed his animalistic and vicious gaze on the disheartened friend. "You're. Not. _Real_."

He then turned his head away from her, making sure he couldn't see her even in his peripheral.

He heard sniffling as Hermione tried to hold back tears, but he still remained adamant in avoiding her.

"Sweetie, how about you let me talk to him?"

Harry turned his neck to see Molly Weasley with her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry croaked, surprised that she showed up.

"Harry, honey. It's so good to see you awake." The mother-head brushed a bit of Harry's hair away from his forehead.

Harry shook himself away from her touch. "Where's Dr. Dumbledore?"

Molly and Hermione exchanged confused glances. " _Doctor_ Dumbledore?" Molly asked.

"I don't know where they are. Where's nurse McGonagall? Where are they?" Harry began to raise his voice, panic creeping upon him, "Dr. Riddle is on the loose, he tried to kill us. I—I need my meds… I think I'm relapsing. I'm seeing… I'm seeing them."

"Who?" Molly asked with great concern.

"Them." Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block everything out. "Everything's back. It's too much. I need to— I need to get out of here."

Raising his body, attempting to get out of bed, Harry felt the hands of the two women push him back down. "Harry, you need to calm down. There is no Dr. Riddle. Voldemort is dead. You killed him. Remember? We destroyed the horcruxes," Hermione reminded.

"I didn't kill him, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, still ignoring Hermione, "Vol— Dr. Riddle was in the car that crashed into us. He was the one who caused the accident this time. The car— He was in the car that crashed into us. He was in the car that killed my parents too! He killed my parents!" Harry began hyperventilating. "The car— He was in the car. There was red and— and there was green."

He was transported back to the car accident, but he couldn't tell which one it was. The crash that killed his parents or the crash that killed him and his friends. Riddle was responsible for them both.

Harry whispered, "There was red and there was green. They were so bright. The light was green—"

His haunted eyes pierced Molly's. "And we were dead."

"No, Harry." Hermione refused to be ignored. "You. Are. Not. Dead."

Then Hermione began muttering to herself, _Red and green lights. If that's what I think it means…_

"I can't go back."

"Go back where?" Hermione asked, shook out of her reverie.

Harry dismissed her.

"Go back where, Harry?" Molly repeated.

"Hogwarts."

Hermione shook her head in denial. "But… you love Hogwarts. We're rebuilding it and we can finish our seventh year. Wouldn't you want that?"

 _That's right_ , Harry remembered. He had set the damn institution on fire. Of course it had to be rebuilt before patients could be transferred back.

Determinedly Harry clenched his jaw and said, "I'm not going back there. I would rather die."

Hermione quickly left the room. Harry knew her enough, or at least his version of who she might be, to know that she had gone off to do more research or cry; perhaps even both.

Molly looked dejectedly at the broken boy. "Get some rest, Harry. You'll feel better when you wake up."

She picked up a small blue bottle by his bedside and tilted its contents into his mouth. Harry didn't know why he agreed to drink it, but he just felt so tired, he couldn't resist anything.

Even before the last drops of the potion hit his tongue, Harry felt himself drifting off to sleep once more.

The next time he awoke, he felt much more energized and alert. This time, the room was empty and he could actually observe where he was with greater clarity.

The first thing that caught his attention was the long thick stick at his bedside. _How could he have not seen it before?_

His wand was sitting there at the ready. He felt around his neck for his father's old chain, but it had disappeared… and his wand was back.

Cautiously and with trembling hands, Harry picked up the jagged piece of wood and nimbly felt its grooves and ridges. Power surged through him like electricity.

It was like… magic.

Harry furrowed his brows in deep concentration as he experienced the influence of his schizophrenia.

_Where was nurse McGonagall with his medication?_

He remembered his first day at the Hogwarts Mental Institution after he woke up from the surgery. Dumbledore gave him James Potter's ancient chain and told him he could leave if he could perform a spell. Any spell.

Harry chose _Alohomora_ and unsurprisingly, it didn't work.

However, this time, with his true wand in his hand, Harry felt compelled to try once more.

 _There was no harm in trying_ , Harry reassured himself.

He raised his wand towards the door and _Alohomora_.

Even with a simple spell like that, Harry felt a rush of new energy consume him. It was like he was given a shot of Firewhiskey.

The door, that was once closed, had shot wide open.

 _No. Way._ Harry thought, his eyes widening in shock at the turn of events.

He jumped out of bed and reached for the pile of clothes that were sitting on a chair beside him. Haphazardly throwing things on, Harry didn't realize someone was watching until a cough—

Immediately, his fight-or-flight response taking over, Harry pointed his wand at the innocent bystander, prepared for any standoff.

"Mr. Potter, I am your healer today." The young lady had her hands raised in fear. "You were admitted after a run-in with Death Eaters. You've been in and out of consciousness. We've used a few potions and draughts to keep you sedated, while we healed your mind. There must have been a cross of spells—"

"STOP LYING TO ME!" Harry yelled at the poor mediwitch, who was just trying to do her job.

Harry still had his wand pointed at her. "None of this is real? Is it? It's all just in my head?"

"No, Mr. Potter, I assure you this is real."

Harry let out a cynical scoff as he disagreed. "Magic isn't real. Magic is the fantasy a child locked in a cupboard under the stairs comes up with to escape his sad reality." His lips began to quiver as everything dawned on him. " _I will never believe in magic again_."

"Then don't believe in magic." Ginny's voice came from behind the nurse.

Harry turned his gaze unto the headstrong girl.

"Don't believe in magic… but believe in us." Ginny gestured at Ron and Hermione who stood by her side. "Because we will never stop believing in you."

"They're not real, Gin," Harry said pitifully. However, he did lower his wand and let Ginny walk towards him and hold his hands. "Every time I felt like I had hope. It was taken away from me. Every time I got close. I can't go through that again."

"If they're not real, would you be able to touch them?" Ginny asked softly.

Harry shook his head no, his eyes focused on Ginny and Ginny alone.

Ginny waved her hand asking Ron and Hermione to walk forwards and they did.

"If Ron and Hermione are able to touch you, will you believe they are real?"

"I— I don't know."

"Let's just see, alright?" She cajoled patiently.

She took his hand and put one in Ron's and one in Hermione's. Then she backed away and let Harry process the feeling of holding his best friends.

"Harry, we're here." Hermione squeezed his hand gently.

Harry squeezed back, feeling how different Ron and Hermione's hands felt.

Ron's hands were calloused and weathered down from years of playing quidditch, while Hermione's were soft and smooth.

Harry sunk to his knees, bringing the two people closest to him down with him.

He gripped their hands tighter and tighter to the point of pain, but Ron and Hermione gave no indication for him to stop. They would do whatever it took to help bring their constant companion back from the depths of oblivion.

"You're real?" Harry asked, his tone almost begging. "You're really here? You won't lie to me?"

"Never," Ron said with great vigor.

"You won't leave me?" Harry knew he sounded like a child, but he didn't care.

"Never," Hermione confirmed.

_You'll stay with me?_

_Until the very end._

At that, Harry could feel tears springing to his eyes as pieces began to fall into place.

They were real.

_The_ _ones_ _who_ _love us never really leave us._

They were his family.

They were his home.

Ron and Hermione both leaned forward to embrace their best friend and the three of them stayed there, huddled on the floor.

Harry could not remember the last time he smelled Hermione's flowery shampoo or Ron's over-applied cologne. To him, it was the sweetest scent in the world.

While taking the steps to recovery, Harry had to stay at the hospital for a few days longer, just so the healers could confirm his well-being. After being prescribed some draught or the other and weekly therapy, he was finally free to go.

Throughout the entirety of his stay at St. Mungo's, Harry was never alone just as Ron and Hermione had promised.

People would always come and visit the Boy Who Lived and he appreciated every single person he saw.

Neville, Luna, and Dean and Seamus all stopped by to make sure he was okay. Harry was glad to see they were all back to normal.

Luna was loony again (in the best way possible), Neville had grown in confidence (all-naturally), Dean was back to being fit (although it didn't stop Harry from handing him a pudding cup— he didn't complain), and Seamus didn't purposefully start fires (they were all accidents, he swore).

Draco stopped by after a while, but their interaction was kept to a minimum. Ron and Hermione were visiting at that moment, though it seemed like they never left Harry's side.

"I shouldn't be here," Draco muttered, mostly to himself. He seemed to teeter on the edge of walking into the room or running right out.

"Then why are you?" Harry questioned.

"You saved my life during the battle. I just wanted to let you know…" Draco coughed, feeling uncomfortable. "I owe you one."

Harry forced down memories of the Mental Institution when it felt like Draco, of all people, was his only friend.

"You don't owe me anything. Don't worry about it."

Draco stiffly nodded his head and without saying anything else, made his way to the door.

"Malfoy," Harry called out, just before the Slytherin boy could leave.

Draco turned his head to meet Harry's and waited for what he had to say, "I'm sorry about Crabbe. I couldn't imagine what I would do without—"

"Well, you don't have to." Draco hid a pained grimace, but Harry knew the sorrow he was facing. Stealing a quick glance at Ron and Hermione who hovered over Harry like a protective hawk, he fixed his shirt, adjusting it at the collarbone and met Harry's gaze once more. "Have a good life, Potter."

Harry nodded. "You as well, Malfoy."

As soon as Draco left, both Ron and Hermione turned to face Harry.

"That went better than expected," Ron commented.

"At the Mental Institution…" Harry paused. Despite having told Ron and Hermione the brief details of his experience at the wonky Hogwarts, Harry still hated reliving its moments. "Malfoy was the only person who treated me like I was normal."

"Huh." Ron chuckled, "Then it really must have been hell."

Harry gave an insincere laugh. "Yeah."

A day before, while Harry had been recovering, still on the cusp of believing he was living a lie, Hermione had told him about the books she had read and her research about why Harry had concocted such a strange version of Hogwarts, the place he loved most.

"The red and green lights," she told Harry.

"Yes? What about them?"

"During the attack, you were facing off against a number of Death Eaters and you were doing fine, deflecting all the spells and such, but then… you were open on one side and hit by two incoming spells and— well..."

"Just bloody tell him already, woman!" Ron impatiently remarked.

"I'm getting to it, Ronald." Hermione rolled her eyes. "After doing a form of the Prior Incantanto spell on you… which was quite interesting to see how the modifications of spells used in healer practices are able to piece together how a patient got to where they are. It's just amaz—"

"Hermione!" Ron interjected, "Basically, Harry, we found out that you were hit with a cross between obliviate and crucio. The red and green lights that you saw were the lights of the spells hitting you at once."

"I was trying to ease him into it, Ron!" Hermione protested.

"By not saying anything?" Ron challenged.

"Obliviate and crucio?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione paused in her arguing to clarify matters with him. "Yes, the cross between spells possibly caused your mind to forget memories or create excruciatingly painful memories that are unlike the ones you already possess."

"I don't understand."

Hermione sighed as she sat down beside his bed. "It took your best memories of the people and places who mattered most to you and twisted it into the worst versions of them that you could imagine."

Ron sat in one of the hospital chairs beside Harry's bed and added, "It would explain why Hogwarts was your prison instead of your home and why Ginny avoided you and why Malfoy was your only friend and Voldemort was still alive and—"

"Why you two weren't real." Harry looked at his blanket and began picking off pieces of lint. "My worst version of the two of you would be a version of you that didn't exist." He blinked as the realization struck him harder than ever. "My hell would be a world without my two best friends."

Hermione had tears in her eyes. "We wouldn't know what to do without you either."

"We never gave up hope, you know." Ron looked awkward in the midst of all the emotion. "We always knew you were going to wake up."

"It was just a Death Eater attack." Harry repeated the information to himself, making sure to pronounce each word in the statement.

"You're safe now, Harry."

Harry looked at his friends, no, his family. "Now my question is why a Death Eater would use an Obliviate spell in the middle of a duel. Of all the things they could have cast, they chose a forgetfulness spell."

Hermione shrugged as she got out of his bed and took a seat beside Ron. "Beats me."

"Nobody said Death Eaters were the brightest bunch." Ron leaned back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. "They call themselves _Death Eaters_ for Merlin's sake."

Hermione and Harry chuckled at Ron's blatant statement until their chuckles turned into full-blown fits of laughter. When Ginny came to visit a few minutes later she would find the three best mates still laughing together— at nothing and everything all at once.

Flash-forward once more and the time came for Harry to pack his hospital bags and rejoin the "real" world. The one with quidditch and magic and family and love. _His_ world.

False memories would hit him out of nowhere once in a while. Random moments would trigger events at the Mental Institution, but with his friends at his side, with Ginny and the rest of the Weasley's, Harry would be safely brought back to reality.

The first place he went after leaving St. Mungo's was the Weasley burrow. He would visit Hogwarts soon, but it would take a while for him to begin trusting that place once more.

As soon as he stepped into the small burrow, flanked by his two best friends and Ginny, he was greeted by the sound of "WELCOME HOME!"

Many people had come to throw the boy a surprise party, similar to the one that had started the whole mess.

_Ginny gazed at him flirtatiously, "Now, about that Hungarian Horntail tatt—"_

" _DEATH EATERS! DEATH EATERS!"_

_Cries of horror came from all around the couple as Harry tried to push Ginny behind him in an attempt to protect her._

" _I can handle myself, Potter. Remember?" Ginny reached for her own wand and got into a ready stance._

_Harry nodded and the two of them ran into the middle of the conflict._

_There were more Death Eaters than Harry had predicted and his fighting skills took over as he cast shield charms and offensive spells._

_Out of his periphery, Harry could make out the figures of Ron and Hermione dueling the prejudiced wizards. Hermione shot out powerful spells as she dodged incoming ones and Ron shot back at the enemies with great precision._

_They were bred for war at such a young age._

_Various Aurors and Dumbledore's Army held their ground as well. Neville had mastered spells that brought out his Herbology talent and Luna held her own against two other Death Eaters with ease._

_Despite the beginning onslaught of Death Eaters, little by little their number began to dwindle as each one was taken down by a powerful witch or wizard._

_Just when Harry thought they would be on the winning side, he watched as two Death Eaters ganged up on Ginny as she had her back to them._

" _Ginny!" He cried out as he ran to her defense. He needed to catch her attention and get her to move out of the way, but the spells had already been cast—_

" _CRUCIO!" "OBLIVIATE!"_

_With no other option, Harry jumped forward like he was about to catch the winning snitch and took on the two spells to save his girl._

" _Harry!" Was the last thing he heard before he was met with white. Blinding white._

"Harry!"

He gasped as he came back to the present. The party had triggered his past memories and he seemed to have blacked out for a bit.

"Sorry," he murmured. Realizing he was on the floor, surrounded by his kneeling friends, Harry picked himself up and adjusted his glasses.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" Hermione offered. "We could go to Grimmauld Place?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Honestly."

Ginny studied Harry closely, not believing a word he said. "Can I talk to you, Harry? Alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, Ginny grabbed his hand and led him upstairs to her room, ignoring wolf whistles from the less than mature people at the party. Ginny paid them no heed. Harry knew it was serious when Ginny forwent her famous Bat Bogey Hex on anyone that bothered her.

Despite that, as soon as they stepped in to the secluded room, Harry wasted no time in grabbing her by the waist and planting a firm and loving kiss on her lips.

When the kiss ended, he placed his forehead on Ginny's and closed his eyes, just feeling her.

"What was that for?" Ginny asked, sounding a little out of breath.

"That was for last time. I didn't get to kiss you at the last party we were at." Harry opened one eye and gave her a crooked smile.

Trying to hide her guilt, Ginny broke away and sat on her bed, her knuckles pushing in the mattress. Harry, confused at her sudden dismissal, leaned against one of the walls and crossed his arms.

"It was just a joke, Gin." Harry reached up and ruffled the back of his hair. "You know I'm okay now. What happened downstairs… that was just a random flashback of the last party. I remembered what happened, but that's a good thing, right?"

"You remembered the party?" Ginny asked softly as she studied her hands, not making eye contact.

"Yeah. You were wearing a beautiful dress and—"

"You remember the part where you risked your life for me? For my _stupidity_?" Ginny interrupted harshly as she sharply looked up, her great brown eyes piercing through him and her voice sounding rough with unshed tears.

Harry was struck speechless at her intensity.

"All of this." Ginny looked like she was facing an internal battle. "All this pain you've been through is because of me. If I just… If I just stayed behind like you told me to, then none of this would have happened."

Coming to his senses, the boy comforted her. "If you stayed behind, you wouldn't be the Ginny I know and love." Harry moved closer and sat on the bed beside her, grasping her hands in his. "I don't blame you, Ginny. I never will."

Harry was a man of few words, but the words he said mattered most.

Ginny smiled, her eyes still watery, as an understanding dawned on her. "I love you too."

Harry's eyes widened in shock as he realized what he said. Then he released a breath and shyly grinned. Even if it was by accident, Harry didn't regret saying he loved Ginny. Unexpected or not, Harry knew it to be completely true how Ginevra Weasley took his world by storm and changed his life for the better.

He could have stayed like that, hand in hand with the red-headed woman of his dreams forever, but the sound of a champagne bottle being opened broke him out of his daydream.

"We should get back to the party, yeah?" He stood from the bed and held out his hand for her to hold.

She nodded, wiping away at her eyes, and clutched his hand. "Yeah."

Harry walked down the stairs with Ginny at his side and fixed his eyes on the two most important people in his life. Ron and Hermione were holding champagne glasses and talking amongst themselves. When they saw Harry, their faces broke into large smiles.

They immediately put down their glasses and walked towards him, but he got there faster.

He wrapped his arms around Ron and Hermione and pulled them in for another big hug. Harry didn't realize how much he needed and appreciated them until he lost them. He swore to himself he would never lose them again.

The two friends were surprised by the usually reserved and constrained boy's onslaught of affection, but nevertheless returned the hug with equal vigor.

As they parted, Ron clapped his hand on Harry's shoulder and gripped it tightly. "It's good to have you back, mate."

Hermione's arms looped around his and the side of her head rested on his shoulder in a perfect little nook; she nodded in agreement.

Around the room, Harry could make out the faces of all the people who supported him through different moments of his life. Professor McGonagall was chatting with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Ginny was being teased by her brothers Bill and Charlie. Fleur and Molly Weasley were bringing out more platters of appetizers. His classmates from Hogwarts and more importantly, Dumbledore's Army, were recalling stories from their time as students.

Each and every person there had impacted his life in one way or the other. Without them, he couldn't imagine where he would have ended up. He would have gone mental.

Harry beamed, he absolutely beamed. "It's good to be back home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Also, did you guys like the ending? I know this fic was a little dark at some points, but I'm a sucker for "and they all lived happily ever after" so... they all lived happily ever after and all was well ;) 
> 
> Just remember that home is not just a place. It's the people. Hogwarts wouldn't be special if it weren't for the people there that made it so.
> 
> Leave a comment if you would like and let me know what you think! <3


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